


Imperial Vigilance

by MagicMissile27



Series: Star Wars: The Customs Office Chronicles [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, F/M, Fusion of Star Wars Legends and Disney Canon, Military, Military Science Fiction, Original Character(s), Pre-Star Wars: A New Hope, Science Fiction, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:41:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24080746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicMissile27/pseuds/MagicMissile27
Summary: In the Outer Rim, far from most of the Galactic Empire, the crew of one of the Empire's finest Customs corvettes discovers a plot to undermine Imperial commerce that could threaten hundreds of civilian starships and give criminal syndicates access to military-grade weaponry. The determined captain of the corvette VIGILANT, Lieutenant Commander Darius Halcar, his tactically brilliant executive officer, Lieutenant Marie Arcourt, and their crew must unravel a plot that will put them up against adversaries both inside and outside the Empire...(End notes includes a glossary of military/Star Wars abbreviations and terms used throughout the story)
Series: Star Wars: The Customs Office Chronicles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1737334
Comments: 16
Kudos: 7





	1. Prologue

ICC VIGILANT 

ORBIT, ORD MANTELL SYSTEM

Ensign Sern Matis, Imperial Customs Office, was in over his head. He had been about to finish his first watch aboard the _Vigilant_ , his new assignment, and now something very fishy was going on in orbit. He checked the scanners again, walking across the small bridge of the customs corvette to look over the crewman’s shoulder. Sure enough, there it was, still coming at them. The crewman looked up at him, raising his eyebrows. “Should I hail them, sir?” he questioned. Matis bit his lip. _Should we? It could just be another routine delivery, but it doesn’t feel right. Maybe my relief will arrive early and I won’t have to deal with this._ That would be better. If he just waited for the other ensign, Rena Olivar, to arrive, she would probably know what to do. She had a year of experience more than he did. Plus, then it wouldn’t be his problem anymore. A ding from behind him, and the bridge lift doors swished open. _Thank goodness,_ Matis thought, turning around – but it wasn’t Olivar who was approaching him, a lieutenant’s insignia standing out against her grey uniform.

“Ma’am,” Matis said reflexively, jumping to attention and saluting. “Ensign,” said Lieutenant Marie Arcourt, the ship’s Executive Officer, as she returned the salute. “I see we have a contact ahead?” “Yes, ma’am. Large bulk carrier, _Xiytiar-_ class. Looks on the older side.” “Very well,” said the XO, stepping up to join Matis at the sensor station. A tall, attractive woman with slightly angular features, her black hair tied back neatly in a bun behind her uniform cap, Arcourt had a reputation for running a tight ship. Her green eyes were sharp and piercing, seeming to survey the bridge, questioning and analyzing the crew while they worked. “Anything else, Ensign?” she asked, facing Matis. He thought hard about it for a moment. “No, ma’am. I am ready to be relieved.” “I relieve you,” said Arcourt, exchanging another salute with Matis, then continuing: “I think we’ll be fine without a formal passdown for now.” Matis looked at her, puzzled. _Since when does the XO skip anything –_ “On the bridge – XO has the conn!” called Arcourt, snapping his attention back to the bridge. “XO has the conn, aye!” replied all the bridge watchstanders. Arcourt surveyed the sensor readouts again, looking out the bridge windows for a few seconds. Matis watched as she seemed to make up her mind, then turned to the watch quartermaster. “Sound General Quarters. Shields up, arm all batteries.” The quartermaster looked as taken aback as Matis felt, but he complied quickly. “GENERAL QUARTERS, GENERAL QUARTERS, ALL HANDS MAN YOUR BATTLE STATIONS,” rang out the alarm on the bridge. _Maybe that’s why she was in a hurry,_ thought Matis. _It must be another drill or something_.

The XO moved to the sensors station again, cueing the ship-to-ship communications channel. “Unidentified freighter, this is the Imperial Customs Cutter _Vigilant_. Identify yourself and your business.” The ringing of the alarm continued alone as the comm system stayed quiet for a few seconds, then: “ _Vigilant_ , uhh, this is the bulk freighter _Horned Toad,_ bringing a cargo of…” A burst of static cut off the transmission for a moment, then it continued: “uh, refined hfredium alloy.” Matis watched his XO for a reaction, trying to recall his Academy chemistry classes. What was hfredium used for? _Starship manufacturing,_ he remembered, as Arcourt turned to him, a hint of a smile on her lips. “Silence GQ, Quartermaster, and pipe the captain to the bridge. Thoughts, Ensign?” “Ma’am, hfredium is used to make starships, but there aren’t any starship facilities of notable size on Ord Mantell.” Arcourt nodded, looking pleased. “And,” she continued, “It’s not an alloy, so it doesn’t need to be refined. Very good, Matis. Crewman Gillis, hail them again. Prompt for visual.” The crewman at the sensors station complied, then shook his head. “No visual, ma’am. Audio only.” Arcourt stepped forward once again, putting a snap of authority into her voice. “ _Horned Toad,_ this is the _Vigilant_. Stop your engines, break off your course, and prepare to be boarded.” She turned and addressed the helmsman at the central station just forward of the CO’s chair: “Helmsman, come left to 330, mark 15. Put us in front of them.” “330, mark 15 aye,” replied the helmsman, bringing the ship up and to the left to block the freighter’s course.

“Freighter is vectoring,” broke in the sensors crewman. “They’re dropping down to our starboard side.” Matis watched as Arcourt had the helmsman slew the _Vigilant_ back to the right to block the freighter again, then accelerate forward to put the _Vigilant’s_ laser batteries in the best possible firing position. “ _Horned Toad,_ this is your last warning. Stand down or you will be fired upon,” Arcourt said calmly, then turned to the weapons station. “Batteries one through six, stand by to engage. Fire on my mark.” Matis’ eyes went wide. “Ma’am, are we actually going to – “ He broke off, watching the freighter move on the screen. It seemed to glow around the edges with the flare of its engines, then accelerate toward them. “Captain on the bridge!” called a crewman from the back of the room, and the bridge crew turned to salute. Lieutenant Commander Darius Halcar stepped in from the lift to return the salutes. He was average height, with dark brown hair and grey eyes, square-jawed and clean shaven. He entered the bridge, saying: “Carry on, everyone. XO, talk to me. What are we looking at?” “Freighter’s approaching rapidly on collision course, Captain,” said Arcourt, gesturing to the screen. “Request permission to engage and disable.” The captain only took half a second to make up his mind, his eyes flicking over the screen and the crewmen on the bridge. “Go ahead.”

“Aye, sir,” replied Arcourt, wasting no time in taking charge of the bridge once again. “Helmsman, get us out of their path. Batteries one through six, you are clear to engage, I repeat, you are clear to engage. Target their engines.” The gunnery teams on each turret acknowledged, and the _Vigilant’s_ batteries began to spew fire into space, streaking through the blackness to hit the old freighter’s drive section. The freighter slowly lumbered toward the corvette, turning slowly in their direction as it closed in. “Range to target, 5 kilometers,” called out the crewman at the sensors station. Matis eyed his commanding officer. _What does the captain think about this situation? He seems content with how the XO is handling it. This is way above my pay grade right now, trying to avoid getting rammed by a bulk carrier._ The big _Xiytiar-_ class freighter was about as big as the _Vigilant_ , and probably weighed five times as much, if it was in fact full of metal like the crew said. _Then again, the crew was probably lying about the cargo_ , remembered Matis. The XO’s voice brought his attention to the viewscreen again:

“Cease fire. Helmsman, engine back two-thirds. Weapons, divert power from aft and side shields to forward shields.” Matis realized with a jolt that the freighter was now coasting uncontrollably toward the _Vigilant_ , its engines burned out from the corvette’s well-aimed laser fire.

“Range to target, one kilometer,” said the sensors crewman.

“Lock on tractor beam. Slow them down,” said Arcourt, checking the freighter’s velocity on the sensor readouts. It took a few minutes, but the _Vigilant_ slowed the heavy freighter down, eventually letting it coast harmlessly to a stop, bouncing off the forward shields.

“Nicely done, XO,” said the captain, nodding in appreciation as the freighter drifted just off of the corvette’s port bow. “Your thoughts on this freighter, Ensign?” asked the captain, looking to Matis. A little surprised to be asked for his opinion, Matis paused for a moment, glancing at the freighter that took up most of the view from the bridge windows. “They must be pretty desperate, sir, to try and ram an Imperial ship rather than be boarded,” he said cautiously, gauging the CO’s reaction to his statement. “I agree,” said the captain, nodding at Matis, then playing back the sensor recording of the freighter’s acceleration on a side station. He then turned to the helmsman and said: “Take us in to dock, helmsman. Port side docking ring.” The captain turned to Arcourt, who looked like she had something on her mind. He didn’t even have to prompt her: “Any contraband they have, they’re probably going to try and dump or destroy, sir.” “Certainly,” agreed the CO. “Send Ensign Olivar to lead the boarding, along with Lieutenant Waldar and ten of his troops. This could be a bit messy.”

Matis watched the feed from Olivar’s wearable camera (worn by all boarding officers) on the bridge viewscreen, still barely believing his luck at being on the bridge for a vessel stop like this one. Olivar kept back while the white-armored stormtroopers and their commander kicked in the door to the freighter’s command center. “Hands in the air!” said the lead stormtrooper, pointing his rifle at the group of unshaven humans and humanoids gathered around sparking control consoles. The freighter’s crew grudgingly put their hands up, though not without a few muttered curses and grumbles. “Is this the whole crew?” asked Olivar’s voice, sounding tinny and distant through the camera feed. The crew members said nothing, then a flash of blue light from the back corner of the freighter’s bridge answered. Matis and the others briefly couldn’t see what was happening, as Olivar dove for cover behind a large computer console. Olivar and her camera looked around the console just in time to see a cluster of flashes from the stormtroopers’ rifles, and then hear a thud as the would-be attacker hit the ground. “Anyone else?” demanded the lead stormtrooper, turning his rifle toward the freighter crew. Once again, they said nothing. “Fan out, we’ll search the ship,” commanded the stormtrooper, waving a group of his troops forward. “You two, stick with Olivar and watch these clowns.”

The feed was pretty boring for a while, just Olivar and the stormtroopers guarding the smugglers, then the rest of the troopers returned. The voice of one of the stormtroopers (Matis couldn’t tell them apart with their helmet filters) came over the bridge speakers: “ _Vigilant,_ this is Lieutenant Waldar. The crew is in custody, and this whole place reeks of spice. There’s a couple big bales full of the stuff in the main hold. Looks like this slob who tried to shoot us was hopped up on it. They were probably about to dump it when we got here.” “Acknowledged, Lieutenant,” said the captain, exchanging a look with the XO. “Looks like we have ourselves an illegal smuggler. Olivar, place the crew under arrest and bring them back here. We’ll tow the ship in and local law enforcement will have plenty of questions for them.” Matis realized that he really didn’t have any reason to be on the bridge anymore, since the excitement was over. He turned to leave, just as the captain walked over to him.

“Ensign Matis, right?” asked the captain.

“Yes, sir.”

“First assignment?”

“Yes, sir, first one.”

The captain looked out at the busted smuggling freighter, then back at Matis. He smiled, then held out a hand:

“Welcome aboard the _Vigilant_ , Mr. Matis.”


	2. New Orders

ISD VINDICTIVE, 18th SECTOR FLEET FLAGSHIP

ORBIT, FERDES SYSTEM

The door hissed shut behind him as Vice Admiral Gallen Iridan entered his office carrying a stack of reports. “When you’ve read one workplace climate report, you’ve read them all,” he said to himself, dropping the papers into a desk drawer without looking at them. Admiral Iridan leaned back in his chair, allowing himself to relax a bit after the morning’s series of meetings. He was in his early fifties now, approaching retirement after a successful career, and his hair was starting to thin and go grey around the edges – not that he’d ever let anyone see that. His uniform cap, as starched olive green as it had ever been, was firmly placed over his bald spot, concealing it completely from the unknowing eyes of junior crewmen. He flipped through a different stack of papers on his desk dismissively – all of them were routine memos that his aide could look at. _Speaking of which –_ he looked at his watch, then looked at the door expectantly.

Right on cue, there was a chime from the door, and it opened to reveal a young blonde woman in an olive green Navy uniform with a braided band across the left shoulder, carrying a briefcase. “Permission to come aboard, Admiral?” asked Lieutenant Vanissa Rodgers, Iridan’s aide. “Vanissa, good to see you, come in. Right on time as always,” said Iridan jovially. He was always happy to see his aide, since she was both attractive and a consistent high performer – _the formula for a woman to succeed in the Navy_ , Iridan thought, quietly enjoying the old Academy joke.

“Thank you, Admiral,” replied Rodgers, smiling at him as she brought in the briefcase and pulled out a datapad with his schedule. “I’d better not have any more workplace climate briefings,” said Iridan, peering at the schedule. “If I have to listen to one more patrol boat CO talking about their crew’s morale parties…” Rodgers tapped on the datapad to bring up the rest of the afternoon, then shook her head. “No, Admiral – no more meetings today.” “Good,” replied Iridan, leaning back in his chair again. “Anything important need my attention?” “Just one item, Admiral,” said Rodgers, bringing up a movement operations order on the datapad and showing it to him. “The ISS _Lehigh_ is scheduled to rotate out of the Quorbat system this week, and there isn’t a replacement lined up yet.”

“Options?”

“There are two nearby ships to call on – the _Castor,_ a _Raider_ -class corvette, or a Customs ship, the _Vigilant_.”

“A Customs ship?”

“Yes, sir – the _Vigilant_ has been assigned to Ord Mantell for the last three rotations and would be eligible to patrol Quorbat as the _Lehigh_ ’s relief. “

“Anything notable about the _Vigilant_? Commanding officer anyone I should know about?”

“Not much in the record, Admiral. Seems to be a pretty normal Customs ship, good at routine boardings and interdiction. CO is LCDR Darius Halcar, a graduate of the Corulag Academy.”

Iridan looked at the movement orders, tapping his fingers on the edge of his desk. “A Customs vessel might be the best solution here. After all, they won’t need to do much,” said Iridan thoughtfully, remembering his previous experiences with Customs officers from varying backgrounds. _Customs officers are indeed good at not doing much, and noticing even less_ , he thought to himself. “Go ahead and write the orders, I’ll speak with Commodore Veleon about sending the _Vigilant_.” “Will do, Admiral,” said Rodgers, filling out the orders with the _Vigilant’_ s information. When she had finished, she looked up and asked: “Anything else I can do for you, sir?”

“Yes, actually,” said Iridan, picking up the stack of memos in his inbox. “These are all routine request memos – let me know your recommendations for each and I’ll sign them later today. Other than that, I think we’re all set.” “Understood, Admiral,” said Rodgers, taking the stack of memos and putting them safely in the briefcase with the schedule datapad. “By your leave, Admiral?” said Rodgers as she made her way out. “Go ahead,” said Iridan, his eyes following her for a moment as she walked out. _She’ll do well in the Navy if she keeps this up,_ he mused. _I’ll line her up for a promotion once all this is over_. _As for that customs ship…_ A smile twitched the corner of his mouth as he looked back at the movement orders he had just approved. _This could be just what I’m looking for._

_ONE DAY LATER_

ICC VIGILANT

ORBIT, ORD MANTELL SYSTEM

Lieutenant Commander Darius Halcar could smell the freshly brewed caf from the wardroom as he came around the corner from his quarters. _The first indicator of how good a meeting will be_ , he thought, smiling to himself, _is how strong the caf is_. _Based on the smell, I’d say this will be a pretty good staff meeting._ He arrived at the door to the wardroom, stepping out of the way of a crewman who hurried past him with a ‘By your leave, sir’ and a salute and into the room. The _Vigilant_ had a small wardroom, just big enough to fit about ten officers around the table.

Halcar’s seat was at the head of the table, with seats for Lieutenant Arcourt and the _Vigilant’_ s command chief, Senior Chief Obrik, on either side of the long brown false wood table. The rest of the officers and senior enlisted in attendance filled in the seats on either side or stood in the back next to the wardroom’s window, which looked aft past the engines, and the countertop where the caf machine was. Currently, the display screen at the far end of the room from where Halcar was filling up his mug with caf (one creamer, no sugar) showed an unfamiliar swirling purplish-blue nebula with arcing electrical storms.

The _Vigilant’s_ Navigator, Lieutenant Junior Grade Steven Kellon, was currently engaged in connecting his personal datapad to the display, scrolling through the presentation he was about to give. “Good morning, Senior,” said Halcar, noticing that Senior Chief Obrik had already taken his seat at the table. “Captain, good to see you,” said Obrik with a smile. “Guess they figured we were getting too good at our jobs over here or something,” continued the chief, holding up one of the datapads from the table that contained copies of the ship’s new movement orders. “Something like that,” agreed the captain, joining Obrik at the head of the table. “A change of scenery might be good,” Obrik mused, scrolling through the orders, “Ord Mantell kind of grates on you after a while, and the food sucks.” Kyler Obrik wasn’t a particularly imposing sort of man, on the shorter side with black hair and a slightly crooked nose (perhaps broken in some planet-side liberty altercation) but he was universally liked among the crew for his easy-going mentorship and guidance.

Looking over his mug, Halcar saw LT Arcourt and the ship’s junior engineer, Ensign Eliza Sheppard, discussing the recent bulk freighter spice bust as they joined the growing group of officers and chiefs milling about the caf machine. “You don’t see very many freighters of that kind in this system, and they were in quite a hurry to begin with,” Arcourt was saying. “I saw the ship afterward,” Sheppard put in eagerly, following the XO back to the table. “That ship looked like it was about to disintegrate any day now. I’m surprised it turned out to be as tough as it was, and that they’d even think about ramming us.”

“Smugglers often modify their freighters without bothering to clean them up first, leaving them looking unsuspecting and sloppy. Then, they figure they’re less likely to get boarded,” said Obrik, glancing over as the two officers sat down. “Never underestimate a bulk freighter,” added Halcar, putting down his mug, “They’re a lot tougher than they look, and some of their pilots are among the best in the business.” Sheppard nodded, pleased to be getting advice from the ship’s senior staff. Sheppard had already acquired a reputation among the junior officers for her talkative, sometimes blunt personality – her emotions and opinions were as visible as her vivid shoulder-length red hair.

The ship’s stormtrooper commander was the next arrival at the table, his black uniform standing out among the grey Customs uniforms of the other officers. 2nd Lieutenant Waldar could have been the model officer for the Imperial Army recruitment holovideos, with chiseled features, a high-and-tight haircut, and blue eyes. Halcar had heard from some members of the crew (and one or two of the stormtroopers) that Waldar’s demanding, perfectionist command style wasn’t exactly popular, but always seemed to get the job done. A few of the other officers privately called Waldar an ‘Army hardo’ behind his back – most of the Customs officers didn’t really interact with the squared-away second lieutenant, other than the ship’s junior ensigns.

Conversation at the table continued for a few more minutes, mostly consisting of Sheppard asking questions and the more senior staff members airing theories about why the _Vigilant_ was being reassigned. Finally, Navigator Kellon caught the captain’s eye and nodded, indicating his presentation was ready to go. Halcar cleared his throat and put down his mug, saying: “Good morning everyone – hope everyone is doing well today. As you have no doubt seen by now, we’ve just received our movement orders, set to take effect tonight –“ He paused for a moment as a dark-skinned man in stained grey coveralls entered the room and joined the group, sliding into an unoccupied chair on the right hand side.

Halcar raised his eyebrows and looked briefly at the new arrival, continuing: “EO, nice to see you could make it – as I was saying, our new movement orders take effect tonight, and we’re headed for the Quorbat system. For more information, I take it Mr. Kellon will be giving us all the relevant details?” Kellon nodded and moved over to the viewscreen, still showing the unfamiliar purple nebula.

“Thank you, Captain. The Quorbat system is situated along one of the main Outer Rim cargo hyperlanes, between the Colonies and the Cladnu system’s manufacturing hubs, and includes several known hazards to navigation. The system has a large number of metallic asteroids and planetoids that make it difficult to navigate in a single continuous hyperspace jump – almost every ship that traverses the system has to stop and recalibrate its drive at some point. The other hazard in the system is this nebula,” he said, zooming in the viewscreen to show the electrical storms and swirling gas in more detail. “The Mako Nebula is notoriously difficult for sensors to read. It is mainly made of high-density gas clouds, and some electromagnetic phenomenon thought to be connected with the asteroids blocks long-range scanners. Communications are sometimes affected, though military-grade transmitters should be able to clear the interference.”

Arcourt raised her hand and Kellon noticed immediately: “Yes, ma’am?” “Do we know if the nebula’s electrical storms interfere with deflector shields?” asked the XO, her eyes fixed on the leaping arcs of electricity shown on the screen. “In certain circumstances they can, ma’am,” replied Kellon, pulling up a graph next to the image of the nebula. “This is a graph of the storm intensity over the past week. From what I could find, at these peak times when the storms are most prevalent they can cause shield fluctuations for a few seconds, though it’s possible to compensate over time.”

“Good to know,” noted Halcar, making a note on his datapad for later. “Please continue, Mr. Kellon.” The rest of the navigation briefing mainly consisted of the scheduling and preparations necessary for the ship’s transit to a new duty station, the location of their homeport, and several associated details.

Once Kellon’s briefing had wrapped up, Halcar took charge once again: “Alright, so that’s our new destination. Senior, what are your thoughts? How’s the crew doing?” “Well, after the shipwide Winter Festival morale party last week, everyone I’ve seen has been in good spirits. Is Ensign Matis here?” “He’s on watch, Senior,” Sheppard put in. “He did a fantastic job organizing that event, it gave everyone a boost,” continued Obrik. “Other than that, we should be good. A change of scene from Ord Mantell will probably be good for most of us, if you wandered off too far from the base things got sketchy fast. From what I’ve seen, Quorbat is smaller but might be more welcoming.”

“Sounds good,” said the captain, checking his list. “EO, can we modify our communications equipment to be able to communicate in the nebula?” The man in coveralls at the end of the table nodded and looked toward him, saying: “Should be able to. It’ll take a few days but I’ll get to work on it right away.”

The EO then returned to using a rag to rub off a particularly stubborn grease spot on one of his hands. He was a relatively plain-looking man and never seemed to speak up in meetings, but Halcar had yet to be disappointed by the quality of work LTJG Hugo Vancil and his engineers produced. The captain returned his attention to the rest of the group: “Other thoughts?”

The ship’s weapons officer, Lenora Davis, spoke up from the right side of the table, her slight Corellian drawl distinctive even in a professional setting as she brushed back her light brown hair with one hand: “Sir, we should be good to go with all weapons training. Given the standoff with the freighter the other day, I think the XO has put our gunners through their paces pretty well, and I’m glad to say they performed as well if not better than ever before.”

“That’s good to hear,” replied the captain. “Anyone else? All right, keep an ear out for the setting of the transit detail tonight. Rumor has it that dinner will be extra special tonight…I suppose we’ll find out in a few hours. Dismissed, everyone.”


	3. Arrival

ICC VIGILANT

ORD MANTELL SYSTEM

“Set the transit detail, set the transit detail. Lightspeed jump in 05 minutes, check the setting of material condition Yellow throughout the ship.” The announcement rang over the Vigilant’s intercom system as LCDR Halcar was putting the finishing touches on his latest report to his supervisor, the Area Commander. Making a mental note to proofread it one more time when he got back, he left his quarters and made his way toward the bridge. When the lift arrived, a few crewmen got out and he saw that his XO, LT Arcourt, was already there. “Marie, how’s it going?” he asked, joining her in the lift. “Pretty good, Skipper,” she replied with a smile. “I’m interested to see how Olivar does tonight on the conn,” said the captain, glancing at his watch. “It’s her first transit, isn’t it?” Arcourt nodded and said: “Rena’s been doing well so far. She handled the freighter boarding very confidently – a lot better than I would have as an ensign boarding officer.”

The lift accelerated them up toward the cutter's bridge, moving almost soundlessly. The doors slid open and they entered the bridge. “Captain on the bridge!” called Ensign Olivar as the bridge crew snapped to attention and saluted. “Carry on,” said Halcar, opting to stand behind the sensor console with Arcourt and give Olivar space to conn the ship. “Are we ready to jump, Ensign?” he asked. “Yes, sir,” Olivar replied, checking the datapad checklist she held. “Course laid in and confirmed. All systems ready, hyperdrive is warmed up and ready to go.” “Engineering, Bridge – are we ready to jump?” asked Arcourt to the intercom. “Yes, ma'am. Hyperdrive is charged and ready,” came Ensign Sheppard’s voice.

“Very well,” said Halcar, pleased to see everything was in order. He exchanged a nod with the XO, then said: “Take us out, Ensign.” “Aye, sir. Helmsman, disengage sunlight drive. Begin the countdown.” “Jumping to hyperspace in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 - drive engaged.” The Vigilant surged forward as the stars stretched out into long lines, then with a flash they were off, surrounded by the bright tumbling chaos of light that is hyperspace.

“Heat levels – nominal. Speed – on target. Time to destination – 3 hours, 25 minutes. Drift – less than 1000km,” reported the helmsman. “Nicely done,” said Arcourt approvingly, looking past the helmsman at the swirling void outside. A few minutes went by, as Halcar and Arcourt checked in with the rest of the bridge, then they went back to the lift to leave the bridge. “Captain below!” called Olivar, and the bridge crew saluted as Halcar and Arcourt stepped off into the lift. “Carry on. The bridge is yours, Ensign,” said Halcar, and the lift doors slid shut. 

A few hours later, LT Marie Arcourt had just finished approving the newest version crew muster stations list when the quartermaster announced dinner: “1800, check the setting of Condition Yellow throughout the ship. DCOs, make your reports to the bridge. The evening meal is now being served to Section 1.” She headed for the _Vigilant’s_ small wardroom, wondering what Mess Cook 2nd Class Garlander had cooked up this time. _Whatever it is, it smells delicious_ , she thought to herself as she walked out of the lift from her quarters. The wardroom and the ship’s office were on the 2nd deck, below the bridge, and she could hear the ship’s engines thrumming with power as the _Vigilant_ continued through hyperspace. She saw the ship’s Operations Officer LT Gerran Edson, the ship’s other full Lieutenant and her Academy classmate, waiting outside the wardroom. “Gerran, any idea what MC2 has in mind for us?” she asked as she joined him in the hallway. “He said it was going to be good,” said Edson, sticking his head in the door of the wardroom. “Looks like they’re almost ready now – Hey, MC2, are we almost set to eat? XO wants to know what’s for dinner.” Arcourt couldn’t help but smile. _Gerran was never exactly shy about asking questions_. “Ah, just a minute,” came a voice from inside the wardroom, and a moment later MC2 Garlander showed up, wiping his hands with a towel. “Made a surprise tonight, to celebrate our new assignment,” he said, gesturing to the table behind him, which was set for dinner. “Captain’s going to love it, and I hope you will too, Mr. Edson.” “You still haven’t told me what’s for dinner, though,” said Arcourt, trying to look past Garlander into the wardroom. “But that’s the point, ma’am,” he said with dramatic seriousness, blocking the doorway. “It’s a surprise until the captain gets here, I can’t tell you yet.” “I see everyone’s excited about dinner,” came a voice from behind Arcourt and Edson, and LCDR Halcar joined the other officers waiting outside the wardroom. “Captain,” said Garlander with a nod, stepping aside from the doorway and gesturing to the table.

“We got the good stuff this time,” said MC2 as the officers sat down at the table and he brought out the tray of food. “Corellian-style smoked nerf with rice, to celebrate our new station.” “That explains what smelled so good,” said the captain, passing the food around. “Well, we’ll have to see if it measures up to my uncle’s smoked nerf, but consider me excited.” The rest of the first group of officers arrived and joined the meal – _it was a pretty quiet day at the wardroom table_ , thought Arcourt, _probably because of the food._ “MC2, how did you get your hands on nerf that doesn’t taste like rubber way out here in the Outer Rim?” said Edson as Garlander cleared off the table. “Well, I can’t spill all my secrets, can I, sir?” replied Garlander jokingly, putting the plates and cups on a cart. “Suffice it to say that we had a little extra in the food budget and MC1 and I decided y’all deserved a treat after having to put up with that boring sludge they serve at the base on Ord Mantell.” Everyone laughed at his mention of the Ord Mantell base. The crew had quickly learned that eating meals on base was a bad idea at the old Ord Mantell outpost, since every meal tasted about the same and none of them were particularly good.

After the plates and cups were cleared away, the conversation turned to business. “I’m curious to see what the activity is going to be like in this nebula we’re supposed to be guarding,” said LTJG Davis, the weapons officer. “Definitely going to be interesting. I don’t have much experience with operating in an area like that,” agreed the captain. “Speaking of the nebula, Skipper,” replied Arcourt, “I had an idea this afternoon after the nav brief – maybe we could look at the system shipping traffic history and get an idea of when ships are usually transiting the nebula, so we can minimize our time in those electrical storms.” “Sounds promising – your thoughts?” asked Halcar, looking to the rest of the table. “Could be useful,” said Davis, sounding skeptical. “I could do it,” spoke up the ship’s usually quiet Support Officer, Ensign (selected for LTJG) Isaac Jenkins. “I was a computer analysis major at the Academy,” he continued, looking almost shocked that he had actually volunteered to take on the task. “All right, Jenkins,” Halcar replied, pleasantly surprised to hear from the quiet junior officer at the end of the table. “The project’s all yours. Get whatever data you need, grab a few of the sensor techs (if you can pry them away from their consoles, that is) to help you analyze it, and let us know what you find.” 

After a course change and another jump in the system’s large asteroid belt, the _Vigilant_ had finally arrived at Quorbat 1, the habitable planet around which their home station orbited. “Exiting hyperspace in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, drive disengaged,” called the helmsman as the stars resolved from streaks of light back to points. Before them lay a greyish-green world, surrounded by wisps of the purple nebula that spread throughout the system. A squat, squarish spot of grey against the planet marked the location of Quorbat Station, a _Cardan_ - _I_ class modular Imperial base that was to be their new home port. Several of the officers and crew had made their way to the forward crew lounge to get a good view of their new home. “Seen one station, you’ve seen ‘em all,” muttered a stormtrooper, heading back to their berthing area with a few others. “Doesn’t look too bad,” remarked one junior crewman, looking out at the nebula. “Imagine waking up and seeing that every morning – like living in the clouds.” “You want to live in the clouds, Xavier? Move to Bespin and you’ll see nothing but clouds,” said one of the petty officers with a laugh.

After docking with the station, refueling, and the usual exchange of pleasantries between the captain and the station’s commander, the _Vigilant_ crew settled in for a day or two in port before they headed out again. To the great disappointment of some of the rowdier crewmen, it wasn’t long before they realized that Quorbat 1 was a pretty simple planet, with a handful of small colonies that were just starting to become real cities. The next few days passed quickly, and they were back out on patrol again. A familiar cycle of meals, watches, maintenance, and sleep fell into place onboard, as their first cruise around the system passed without incident.

_EIGHT DAYS LATER_

Finishing up another chapter, LCDR Darius Halcar closed the cover of the latest leadership book that he had decided to read, _Paragon: Leading with Moral Authority._ He liked the feel of a hardcopy book when he could find one, and this book had been on sale in a shop during his last shore leave. Just then, there was a knock on the door to his quarters. “Come in,” he said immediately, looking over. “Good afternoon, captain,” said Ensign Jenkins, a datapad in his hands. “Mr. Jenkins, how’s it going?” said Halcar, inviting him in. “Sir, I have the results of the shipping tracking project that I’ve been working on, and I think you’re going to want to see this. I double-checked my numbers, but there’s no other conclusion.” He handed Halcar the datapad and waited awkwardly. Halcar surveyed the report, focusing on the graphs that Jenkins and his team had generated. The number of ships entering the system was plotted against time on one chart, while the number of ships leaving was plotted on another. It took him a minute to realize it, but he saw that the graphs didn’t line up. He tapped a few controls on the datapad and superimposed the graphs – it confirmed exactly what he thought.

The number of ships reporting that they entered the system was greater than the number of ships exiting the system – spaced out by a few weeks, ships seemed to just disappear off the map. “Where are these missing ships going?” he wondered aloud, looking up at Jenkins. “That was our question, too, sir, but we don’t know yet,” answered Jenkins apologetically. “Did you check the records from the previous ships assigned to this station? Maybe their boarding records can help answer this.” “We requested them, sir,” said Jenkins with a hint of frustration. “The previous ship assigned here was a Navy ship, the ISS _Lehigh_ , so they only gave us redacted copies of their logs. However, we didn’t see any sign of these missing vessels.” “I think you’re on to something, Jenkins,” said the captain, standing up and handing back the datapad. “Well done to you and your team – this could be big. I want you to present this to the rest of the senior staff tomorrow morning at the staff meeting. We’re going to look into this.” “Thank you, sir,” said Jenkins, making his way to the door. “By your leave, sir?” he asked, and Halcar nodded. “Should have known this tour couldn’t stay simple for long,” said Halcar after the door slid shut.

The next morning, Jenkins’ presentation of his findings got the crew’s attention at the staff meeting. “Thoughts?” asked Halcar after the initial round of questions, glancing around the table. “Maybe there’s a correlation with the port that they left from,” theorized Arcourt, scrolling through the data. “Possible,” agreed the captain, making a note. “It would help a lot if we could get the Navy ship to send us the full sensor logs,” put in LT Edson from the other side of the table. “That is a must have, I’ll make sure to reach out to them,” Halcar replied. After the questions were over, he said: “There’s a lot of data here, and I think there’s still more to be analyzed once we can get the sensor logs from the _Lehigh_. Mr. Jenkins, can you make sure this database is shared with all of the ship’s officers?” “Already done, sir,” answered Jenkins, checking it on his datapad. “Very good,” said Halcar, impressed by how well Jenkins was stepping up the challenge. “I want everyone to take a look at this data, especially after we get the complete version. The more eyes we have on this checking for patterns, the better our chances are of figuring out where these ships went and what’s really going on here. Meeting dismissed.”


	4. Lower Decks

ICC VIGILANT

QUORBAT SYSTEM

Technician 1st Class (TC1) Grissom poked at a fitting with the end of a hydrospanner, knocking off a bit of corrosion that had affixed itself to the back side of the fuel pump console. He leaned over to one side and grabbed a multimeter, attaching its probes to the contacts and re-energizing the circuit – much better, the display booted up instantly. “If only more maintenance work was this simple,” he said wryly as he checked the boxes on the Maintenance Process Card that he was required to file. He was distracted by footsteps from behind him, and he turned to see Ensign Sheppard closing the door behind her, a stack of drawings in hand. “Good morning, TC1,” she said brightly, walking over to look at the pump he was working on.

“Ma’am,” replied Grissom with a nod, finishing the MPC. “Can you take a look at this drawing for me?” asked Sheppard, showing him a complex diagram that he quickly recognized. “Sure thing, ma’am,” he answered, looking at the drawing and tracing the lines with his fingers. “Tell me about this system, what does it do?” he asked, just like he asked all the break-in watchstanders. “It’s the ship’s water purification system,” answered Sheppard confidently. “It processes greywater and waste to help maintain the ship’s freshwater reserves.” “Mm-hmm,” agreed Grissom, pointing to a junction on the diagram, asking:

“And what’s this valve here do?” 

“That’s the emergency pressure relief valve, right? In case there’s a blockage in the line and the system overpressurizes, you can let it vent back down into the greywater tank.”

“Yep, looks good. And the output is…never mind, I see it. Okay, let me sign this for you.” He signed the paper and handed it back to her. “Thanks, TC1,” said the ensign, putting the drawing back on the stack. “No problem, Ms. Sheppard.” “Have you seen EO around?” she asked, glancing past Grissom to the door that led into the generator room. “Afraid not, he’s probably still up in the comms room with the ETs and EMs.” Sheppard let out a visible sigh and leaned back against the bulkhead, making little effort to hide her frustration.

“Is it just me or is he always ‘too busy’ for questions?”

“It’s not just you, ma’am – he just kind of likes to keep to himself, I guess. Not the most outgoing guy, but I tell you, he’s one of the smartest officers I’ve ever seen.”

“Fair point… but would it kill him to actually talk to people every once in a while?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, ma’am – he’s been that way for as long as I’ve been here.”

“Good to know, I guess.” She gathered her papers and made her way to the door. “Thanks again TC1, I should probably go. This fuel update report isn’t going to write itself.” “See you later, ma'am. Let me know if you need me to look at any more drawings.”

Marie Arcourt sat back in her chair, putting aside the novel she had been reading. Checking her watch, she realized she still had another ten minutes to spare before her meeting with Senior Chief. She was about to start another chapter of _To Sail Beyond the Sunset_ when a quiet knock on the door frame caught her attention. “Hi, Marie. Got a minute?” asked LCDR Halcar, who was standing just outside the door. “Sure, Skipper,” Marie replied, putting down the book and standing up. “What can I do for you?”

“Just checking in,” said Halcar, glancing at her digital e-reader then back at her. “Any thoughts on the mystery of the missing ships?” Marie shook her head, brushing back a stray strand of black hair. “Afraid not. Market data and ship manifests are gibberish to me, I may as well be hunting for a needle in a haystack. What would come in handy is if we had an analyst team onboard, like they have on the big Navy ships.”

“Definitely,” agreed Halcar. “You know, even though we sometimes made fun of them at the Academy for being computer geeks, it would be really nice to have a Data Analysis Officer around for issues like this. You remember Professor Whittington from Computer Science I?” Marie thought back to her Academy classes on Corulag, where she had graduated two years behind the captain. “Old guy, greying hair, bad handwriting, talked slow?” she asked, vaguely remembering struggling to stay awake at her computer terminal as she typed away at some sorting function program project.

“That’s him alright,” Halcar answered with a laugh. “Most of that class went in one ear and out the other, to be honest. Maybe that ‘code efficiency’ he always was talking about would make more sense out of this mess than I can, but I’m coming up empty as well. I could tell you all about the leadership policies of the Republic Navy or the best way to delegate tasks, but number crunching like this isn’t my strong suit.” “Agreed,” replied Marie, smiling at the mention of Prof. Whittington’s favorite catchphrase, ‘code efficiency’.

“I wonder if Vancil and his team have had any luck with the data,” she wondered aloud, leaning over to grab her cover as she gathered her notes for the meeting. Halcar nodded slowly, thinking about it. “That’s a good idea – come to think of it, I need to look at the newest fuel and fresh-water report anyway. May as well kill two birds with one stone, then.” He walked with her to the end of the hall, then headed off toward Engineering. “I’ll talk to you later, XO,” he said, waving. “Looking forward to it, Skipper,” she replied with a smile, and headed off to her meeting.

LTJG Hugo Vancil scrolled through the engine room status displays and gave a nod to no one in particular. “Hey, EO, you busy?” came the captain’s voice from the door to the central engineering control room. “Not really,” said Vancil with a shrug. “What do you need, Captain?” “Thought I’d take a look at the tank loading report while I had a minute,” said Halcar, walking in.

“Sure thing,” replied the EO, pulling out a report printout from a stack of logbooks. “Sheppard just finished it, you’re right on time.” The captain scanned the report, noting the distribution of drinking water, fuel, and wastewater. “Looks good to me,” he said after a minute or two. He fished in his pockets for a pen and signed it, handing the printout back to the EO. “Did you get a chance to look at any of the data from Jenkins’ study?”

“I did, actually,” replied Vancil, bringing up the sensor records and the numbers from the database on his computer. “I think I might have found something. Take a look at this part of the sheet. See those? Full load weight of the ship, as recorded by the departure scan. Now look at these. Full load weight as reported on the cargo manifest.” Halcar looked back and forth between the columns and his eyes narrowed. “They don’t match,” he said darkly. “They don’t,” agreed Vancil, scrolling down.

“I thought it must be a fluke, but all the other missing ships have some sort of imbalance between their reported weight and scanned weight.” “And no one reported this?” said Halcar in surprise. “Apparently not, since the ships kept disappearing,” said Vancil. “Hmm. I don’t like the look of this at all.” Halcar scrolled back through the sheet again to confirm. “Can you put this in a report for the rest of the staff by the meeting on Thursday? I think you’re on to something.” Vancil hesitated for a second, then nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.” “Sounds great,” said Halcar as he turned to leave. “Good work on this, Hugo, I’m impressed.” “No prob, sir,” replied the engineer, returning to his console. He watched the status screen for another few minutes, then, with little else to do for the moment, started to put the vessel data onto graphs for the meeting later in the week.

The next few days passed quickly, as the _Vigilant_ crew finished up their second system patrol. Thursday arrived, bringing with it the last day of scanning the system and the weekly staff meeting. After Vancil had given his presentation, the staff began discussing options once again. Among the ideas proposed, LTJG Davis thought the most likely explanation was a smuggling ring, while LT Edson proposed that there could be a problem on the spaceport side such as a scanner failure or inconsistent loading. “There’s a lot of possibilities,” acknowledged the captain once the discussion quieted down.

“I think that one way or another, we need to board one of these ships. Mr. Vancil’s analysis and Mr. Jenkins’ data here has shown us a pattern of when the ships go missing – it appears to be whenever an outbound bulk freighter is headed for one of these four systems.” “Based on the spaceport’s ship departure schedule, we can find out which ship is to go missing next and intercept them before they disappear,” Arcourt finished, figuring out the plan. “Exactly,” said Halcar. “And the next freighter that fits the criteria is scheduled to leave in – five days. Okay, so we’ll plan on a boarding Tuesday afternoon and see if we can’t get to the bottom of this. At this point, unless we have any questions, let’s move on to the docking plan for tonight and the duty schedule for this weekend…”

Once the _Vigilant_ pulled back into orbit and docked at Quorbat Station, the crew set to work cleaning up the ship and preparing to resupply. Finally, the quartermaster made the long-awaited announcement: “Now, liberty liberty liberty, liberty is hereby granted to all crew members with the exception of the duty section. Liberty is set to expire on board prior to 0000. All hands are reminded to check out with the OOD and their department head before departing on liberty – now, liberty.”

Within about half an hour, the majority of the officers and crew had departed the ship, leaving the hallways quiet for the rest of the night. The next day came and went, with another section of crew members rotating through temporary duty and the rest of the crew free to enjoy Quorbat Station’s somewhat limited hospitality. Senior Chief Kyler Obrik made his way back onboard on Friday night, stopping by the bridge to check in with the current Command Duty Officer who was supervising the all but empty ship. “Chief Brantley – how goes it?” he asked, greeting the bored-looking fellow chief who was sitting in one of the side console seats.

“Quiet as can be,” replied Chief Dirk Brantley, the ship’s senior enlisted engineer and Main Propulsion Assistant. “Couple of the troopers were complaining about something, but other than that there’s basically nothing going on. Stores were loaded this morning, and according to MC2 we now have enough food for the foreseeable future.” “Sounds like a good day,” said Obrik, heading over to the back of the bridge where the duty schedule was posted. “You’ll get all the fun tomorrow, right Senior?” asked Brantley, swiveling his chair over to face Obrik.

“Yeah, my turn tomorrow,” he answered, distracted by what he saw on the schedule. “Did someone update this? I don’t remember the duty section looking like this last time I checked.” “I think our Army pal edited it. Said something about remedials – that must be why the troopers were complaining,” replied Brantley. “Hmm. Well, we’ll find out tomorrow I suppose. See you at the duty switch in the morning,” said the slightly older Senior Chief, his eyes narrowing. “See you tomorrow, Senior,” said Brantley, as he checked his watch and made another log entry.

Just as Obrik had thought, when the duty section mustered the next morning he found a large knot of jumpsuit-clad, frustrated-looking stormtroopers grouped up on one side of the mess deck. “Morning, folks,” he said as he came in from the Chief’s Mess with his caf. “Senior,” said one or two of the troopers with a nod as he walked by. “Something on your mind, trooper?” asked Obrik, seeing the dark looks on their faces. “Long story, Senior Chief,” said one of the troopers, looking at the table.

“Mm-hmm,” replied Obrik. “I thought your section was supposed to have libo during this stop?” _That’s definitely what it is,_ he thought as he saw one of the other troopers bite her lip and the one who had replied earlier look up. “Like I said, Senior, it’s a long story,” said the trooper. “Right, I get it,” said Obrik. _Something’s up._ “We’ll talk later, after the duty switch,” he continued, then made his way over to where Chief Brantley and his off-going section were waiting.

They traded salutes, and Brantley gave him the usual pass-down of information. Once the off-going section had cleared out, Obrik called over a few of the troopers and said: “Okay, talk to me. Why did all of your names just appear on the duty roster last night?” There was a stony silence for a few seconds as the troopers looked at each other, then back at him. Finally, one of them spoke up: “Senior, a few folks got a bit excited in one of the bars on the station when off duty last time. Then someone wasn’t on time for LT’s morning inspection and everything hit the fan.” “So the whole squad got reassigned, even though you had duty last time too?” asked Obrik, surprised. “You got it, Senior,” said the trooper gloomily.

 _T_ _hat doesn’t make sense. Group punishment with stuff like this isn’t the way to go, it’ll just make everyone miserable_. “Okay, I’ll bring it up later. Sorry to hear about that, folks. We’ll try and make today as simple as possible and get you guys secured early.” Obrik took charge of the duty section, and they did some simple cleaning and inventory work for a few hours. After the mediocre lunch that one of the cooks put together in a hurry, the crew divided up into groups and stood security watch while he got on his comlink and called the XO. After a few rings, she picked up. “Hello?” “XO, it’s Senior Chief,” he said, taking a look to make sure the bridge was empty. “Hey, Senior. Anything wrong?” asked Arcourt.

“Just a few quick questions – did you or OPS approve a change to the duty schedule yesterday?”

“No – what happened?”

“Well, there’s the better part of a dozen stormtroopers stuck on cleaning duty who didn’t get libo last time either. One or two of them made a couple mistakes last week apparently, so the whole squad got the short end of the stick from their platoon commander. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to go ahead and secure everyone we don’t need for security watch.”

The line was quiet for about two seconds, then: “I see. Well, I can assure you that I didn’t approve that change to the schedule. I’ll be having some words with Mr. Waldar about how we run things on this ship, and I think this will be coming up with the captain as well.” Arcourt’s voice was uncharacteristically cold and angry, something he didn’t hear very often but knew was a very bad sign. He hesitated for just a moment, then said: “Ma’am, if I may make a suggestion?” “Sure.” “I think Mr. Waldar needs advice more than he needs a reprimand in his record. Talk to him about following the chain of command, sure, but I’d like to have a conversation with him personally to see if we can’t fix the underlying issue here.” Arcourt’s voice was a bit calmer when she responded: “You’re probably right, Senior. Go ahead and secure everyone you don’t need for watch and we’ll figure out the bigger problem later. Thanks for letting me know about this.” “No problem, ma’am. Sorry to bother you.” “Talk to you later, Senior,” said the XO, and ended the call.


	5. Underway as Before

ICC VIGILANT

QUORBAT SYSTEM

The familiar hum of the ship’s engines droned on in the background as LTJG Lenora Davis typed in yet another log entry. As the ship’s Weapons Officer, she was in charge of all ammunition, defense systems, and law enforcement operations…which meant that she had to keep track of every boarding the ship’s crew conducted. Halfway through entering the ID number of a passenger transport they had checked the previous week, she heard the door to her shared stateroom open. “Hey, Nora,” said LT Marie Arcourt as she walked in, tossing her uniform cap onto her bed and sitting down. “You look tired,” remarked Davis, glancing over at her roommate. “Long watch?”

“Kind of,” said Arcourt, looking for something in her desk. “Had a talk with Waldar about the stunt he pulled this weekend, changing the duty schedule without asking anyone first. I don’t think he understands how things work on a ship, honestly.”

“Hopefully he’ll figure it out,” Davis replied as she continued the log entry. “I hope so too, or we’re going to have bigger problems,” Arcourt agreed, pulling out her e-reader and scrolling through it in search of a book to read. Davis finished and closed up her terminal, turning her chair around. “Any good books on there?” she asked, pointing to the e-reader. Arcourt looked up and answered: “I started reading one last week and it’s pretty good so far. Have you read _To Sail Beyond the Sunset_ by Anderson?”

“I did! I read it at my last unit. We spent more time in spacedock than underway, so I had lots of time to read. I won’t spoil it for you, but I love the ending.”

“Really? Well, that’s good to hear. Looking forward to the rest of it then, I keep hoping that it’ll all work out eventually. Just like this tour, I suppose – it’s a good story but so much keeps happening that you wonder if it’ll ever calm down.” As Arcourt finished talking, Davis got up and started sorting through her laundry bag. “I agree, it’s been a busy trip so far. Let me know what you think when you finish!” “Will do,” said Arcourt with a smile, turning her attention to her novel.

Down the hall in the CO’s stateroom, LCDR Darius Halcar happened to also be immersed in a book – having finished _Leading with Moral Authority,_ he had started to read _No Greater Distinction: Saving the RSS Resolute_ , a true story about a crew in the late days of the Republic that survived an explosion aboard their ship and brought it back to port. As he read through descriptions of heroic crew members sealing off damaged areas of the ship, adapting to danger, and pulling their shipmates out of hazardous situations, he began to wonder: _Could my crew do this? Are we ready if something like this happens to us?_ He put the book down and thought about it for a minute.

 _The crew is all on the same page about what we’re doing out here. But none of them signed on to fight a war. We may drill for it, but I wonder whether I’ve tested them (and myself) enough for whatever’s coming. Something is going to happen – it has to eventually. I’m afraid the freighter we fought over Ord Mantell might be just the beginning._ He sat back in his chair and thought about his senior staff, recalling their opinions in the most recent meeting. _Marie has it all under control – I admire her work ethic and good attitude._ A voice in the back of his head added: _and she’s not bad looking, either._ He tried to put it aside, remembering that ‘fraternization is a shortcut to a court-martial’, like they used to say in the conduct trainings, but the thought lingered for a little while longer. _Maybe some other time. Not now, not while I’m in command. I need to be able to think straight._

_As for the rest of the officers – I think we’ve got some of the best in the service with us right now, even some of the young ensigns. Matis is really on top of his game for a newly arrived JO, and Sheppard certainly seems happy to be here as far as I can tell (if she wasn’t happy, she’d probably be sure to tell us all about it). I guess time will tell if they’re ready to qualify and move up, and if we’re all ready for whatever the future holds._

“Don’t leave me hanging, Melissa – tell me about it! How did it go? What did Mom say?” Ensign Eliza Sheppard’s voice was filled with excitement as she talked into the camera on her computer terminal. Visible on the screen was a younger woman who looked strikingly like Sheppard, with the same fiery red hair but in a long braid instead of cut shoulder-length. As Sheppard’s sister started to talk about her latest relationship, Ensign Rena Olivar rolled her eyes and put in one earphone to listen to music instead. Sheppard was always talking to her family – whether it was one of her three sisters, her ex-fighter pilot father, or her mother (from whom she seemed to have gotten her talkative, blunt, heart-on-your-sleeve personality). As the most experienced ensign aboard the _Vigilant_ , Olivar often found herself teaching the other break-in junior officers what to do, and her roommate was certainly no exception. It was annoying at times, but at least she was able to be helpful. Right now, however, she just needed a break.

She let her mind wander a bit as Eliza and her sister continued to chat, daydreaming about getting assigned to a nice quiet inspection unit on a more civilized planet – the dream job of many a Customs officer. When Sheppard wasn’t talking about her family or talking with her family, she had often expressed her desire to lead tactical boarding/inspection teams for the Customs Office. Olivar wasn’t sure if that was going to happen, since the tactical side of the Customs Office was a high-risk, high-reward career path that didn’t accept very many people – especially not many women, who were often discouraged from applying for tactical training. _Well, whatever happens next in our careers,_ she thought, glancing over her shoulder at the ongoing gossip, _I’m sure Eliza will make sure we hear all about it._

Hours went by, as the bridge watch was relieved and the usual rotation of crew members continued. As their schedules allowed, the crew grabbed some sleep before the next day’s work. Monday slowly came to an end, and Tuesday began. The quartermaster noted in the log as he assumed the watch just before midnight: _Underway as before._ Though there was no sunrise in space, the crew still maintained an artificial sense of day and night due to the timing of meals, watches, and sleep. Eventually, the ‘morning’ brought with it the usual smells of breakfast and caf, as the night watch finally got to sleep. The day pressed on, and there was at least a little excitement among the crew. The latest rumor was, explained one young crewman eagerly, that the ship was going after pirates! A junior petty officer denied anything of the sort, saying that it was just another day of boardings and there was nothing special about it. As the ship’s officers knew, however, the truth might turn out to be a little bit of both – and it would be wrong to say that they weren’t on edge as they approached the Mako Nebula’s storms that afternoon.


	6. Into the Fire

ICC VIGILANT

ORD MANTELL SYSTEM

“On the bridge – Lieutenant Davis has the conn!” “Lieutenant Davis has the conn, aye!” responded the bridge crew as LTJG Lenora Davis took charge of the watch. “Okay, Sheppard,” Davis said, turning to the redheaded ensign next to her. “What’s our first step in preparing the ship to exit hyperspace?” “First, we check range to the destination and make sure we’re locked into the approach course,” Sheppard replied confidently. “That’s right,” said Davis, nodding and bringing up a projection of their course track on one of the bridge monitors. “Then what?” “Notify the engine room, then once within 1000 kilometers have the helmsman begin the countdown and disengage.” Davis ran through the mental checklist and said: “All of those are correct, but you forgot one thing.” She counted them out on her fingers. “Engine room, 1000 km countdown, and…” “Um…” Sheppard hesitated for a moment, looking around the bridge. Her eyes fell on the quartermaster’s station, where one of the junior petty officers was updating their position log. “Oh, I remember,” she said, relieved at having figured it out. “Have the quartermaster announce that the ship is exiting hyperspace, then secure from the transit detail.” “There we go,” said Davis as she signed Sheppard’s qualification packet. “You’re picking this up fast, Ensign. Keep this up and you’ll be qualified in no time.”

“Thanks, ma’am,” said Sheppard, taking the packet back from Davis. “Now we do this for real,” said Davis, walking with Sheppard to the course track display from earlier. “Range to destination?” “Looks good,” replied the junior ensign. “Are we locked in?” “Yes, ma’am, we are.” Davis turned on the intercom and called to the engine room: “Engine room, this is LTJG Davis on the bridge. Preparing to exit hyperspace.” “Understood,” came the voice from the intercom, which Sheppard recognized as TC1 Grissom. “Quartermaster, go ahead,” said Davis, and the petty officer acknowledged the order with a nod. A few seconds later, “All hands make preparations for exiting hyperspace,” echoed throughout the ship. “Helmsman, count us down,” ordered Davis, returning to the center of the bridge and watching the ship’s deceleration. “Aye, ma’am,” said the helmsman, keying in the ship’s sublight drive and beginning the process of disengaging the hyperdrive. “Exiting hyperspace in…five, four, three, two, one – drive disengaged.” The streaks of light around them resolved once more into stars, and the _Vigilant_ entered into the chaotic purple light of the Mako Nebula.

“Lot of storms today,” commented Sheppard as she joined Davis next to the captain’s chair. “Definitely,” agreed the slightly older officer, watching the arcing electrical discharges of the nebula leap back and forth. She made her way over to the ship’s sensor console and asked: “Sensors, any sign of this freighter we’re waiting for?” “Not yet, ma’am,” answered the sensors crewman, but then his expression changed. “Wait – ma’am, we have an incoming –“ The rest of his sentence was cut off by the BANG of an explosion and multiple impacts, seemingly coming from the port side of the ship. Sheppard grabbed at the arm of the captain’s chair to stay upright as Davis said: “Karabast! Shields up, arm weapons –“

Suddenly the bridge was rocked by another attack, and the sensor console exploded into shrapnel and sparks. The sensor crewman and Davis were thrown backwards onto the floor. “Davis! Crewman Pelco!” Sheppard called out as she ran to them, smoke now issuing from the destroyed console. The sensor crewman was a mess, multiple pieces of shrapnel having hit him square in the chest and face. Davis didn’t look much better, her face blackened from the explosion and her uniform stained with blood. _Oh no,_ thought Sheppard, looking up from the unconscious weapons officer to the bridge viewscreen just in time to see a flash of turbolaser fire from behind one of the tumbling asteroids. “Get those shields up!” she shouted to the quartermaster, who somehow still had the position log in his hands. “Call the captain to the bridge, and get a medic up here for these two,” she continued, holding onto the side of the broken console for support and trying to sound calmer than she felt. _And pray that we hang on long enough to figure out what the frick is going on here_.

When the first round of attacks hit the _Vigilant_ , Lieutenant Commander Darius Halcar had just started reading the latest Unit Intentions message from the Area Commander, Commodore Veleon. The explosions practically threw him out of his chair, though fortunately for him he landed on the deck rather than slamming against his locker on the opposite wall. Immediately, he scrambled up and looked outside his stateroom. There was smoke in the air, and he saw a crewmember go running past with portable fire-fighting equipment. _I need to get to the bridge. Now,_ he realized, reflexively grabbing his uniform cap and throwing it on as he left the room. He headed for the lift and almost ran headlong into a flushed-looking LT Arcourt, her hair in a loose ponytail and the top two buttons of her uniform jacket still unbuttoned. “There you are, Skipper. We need to get to the bridge,” Arcourt said hastily, grabbing onto the door frame for support as another strike shook the _Vigilant_. “Don’t have to tell me twice,” Halcar replied grimly. “Let’s get out of here.” However, the lift ground to a halt about three seconds after the doors shut, and then the lights went out. “Power outage,” said Halcar, fiddling with the control panel buttons. “I wonder if we can get this door open…“ He hit the emergency release once and nothing happened, then hit it again (harder this time) and the door slowly slid open. “We’ll have to take the service ladders,” said Arcourt, buttoning her jacket and looking up to where the bridge was.

As alarms began ringing in the engine room and neatly stacked tools came clattering out of their containers, LTJG Hugo Vancil came skidding out of the control room with caf spilled on his overalls. _What the kriff is going on? I thought we were just going to do a boarding._ Ensign Sheppard’s voice came over the intercom, broken and full of static. “Engine room, th- is the bridge. EO, we’re – under attack – need power to shields asap – weapons inactive”. _Great._ TC1 Grissom ran up, hydrospanner in hand. “Sir, we have a problem.” “Tell me something I don’t know,” griped Vancil, following Grissom over to the control console. ”Like the bridge just said, we need power to shields and weapons. Primary power couplings are all shorted out, so I think we’re going to need to re-route and use the secondaries.” “Yeah,” agreed Vancil, looking at the wiring diagram Grissom had pulled up. “Pull power from all services – food storage, utilities, we won’t need any of that if we get blown apart. Deactivate ventilation systems in all hallways, berthing areas, and staterooms as well and reroute to shields. That should buy us some more time.”

“Got it,” replied Grissom as two of the ship’s other engineers entered and broke out the firefighting gear from its storage locker. “What about weapons?” asked the senior technician, pointing to the diagram of the ship’s laser batteries. “Hmm. We might not be able to reroute from here,” said Vancil as he thought through different connections. The room shook as another explosion rocked the _Vigilant_ from outside. “The problem is right here,” he said, jabbing his finger at a wiring junction in the ship’s underside. “All these systems are still online, so the connection must be broken here. We’re going to need to manually unplug it and use the secondaries to power weapons.” “You got it, sir,” replied Grissom. “I’ll be right back as soon as I’ve got it set.” “Sounds good, TC1. I’ll reroute power as soon as you’re done.” _This is going to be a long day_.

On the crew deck, Halcar and Arcourt slid carefully out of the lift car, squeezing past the side of the car to climb onto the ladder that led to the second deck. Climbing as fast as he dared with the intermittent _bang_ s and shaking, Halcar led the way to the second deck. “One more to go,” he said, reaching for the next ladder once they had reached the small landing that the lift would usually stop at. Just then, the world seemed to turn sideways, and he found himself falling toward the opposite wall of the shaft. Fortunately, he grabbed the first rung of the ladder just in time. Arcourt didn’t make it to the ladder, but ended up twisting in midair and landing painfully on the other wall. “Artificial gravity failures detected,” said a calm automated voice. “Thanks for stating the obvious,” groaned Arcourt, dusting herself off and looking ‘up’ to where Halcar was now hanging from the ladder as if it were the ‘monkey bars’ on a playground. A second later, however, gravity seemed to shift again, twisting to one side so one of the other walls of the squarish lift shaft was now the ‘floor’. Arcourt slid sideways as Halcar dropped from the ladder, and they wound up on the same wall. “This is going to get really annoying,” said Halcar, helping Arcourt up. “Agreed. Let’s get out of this place before someone turns the elevator back on and runs us over,” she replied with a bit of a laugh.

Alternately sliding along the walls of the shaft and clambering up the ladder (including a few awkward seconds of climbing backwards to go up), the captain and the XO finally made their way to the bridge. “Captain on the bridge!” shouted someone from one of the side consoles on the bridge as Halcar and Arcourt arrived. “What’s the situation, Ensign?” asked Halcar immediately, waving aside the greeting formalities. “Enemy vessel opened fire from behind those asteroids after we came out of hyperspace, Captain,” replied Sheppard, gesturing to the viewscreen, which currently showed the swirling purple clouds of the nebula around a cluster of asteroids. “We haven’t been able to get a good sensor reading yet. All we know is some kind of turbolaser turret has been keeping up steady fire on us.”

“XO, take the conn,” directed the captain with a glance at Arcourt. “I’ll handle weapons direction. Let’s see if we can’t get a look at what we’re fighting.” “Understood,” replied Arcourt, who then addressed the helmsman: “Helmsman, bring us up on our port side, 90 degrees rotation. Come right to course 115, mark 0, engines ahead one-third.” As the helmsman complied and the world outside rotated, Halcar looked to the engineering console: “How are our shields?”

“Holding at 60% for now, sir,” replied the crewman.

“Weapons status?”

The crewman at the weapons control station shook his head and swiveled to face the captain: “Still no power to the main batteries. Crews are in place but power hasn’t been reconnected yet.” _We’re going to be sitting ducks if we can’t get those guns online_ , thought Halcar bitterly. “Engine room, this is the bridge,” he called into the intercom. “EO, we need the guns online ASAP. What’s your status?” Vancil’s reply was barely audible over the undamped engine noise: “Stand by on the guns, TC1 is on it right now.” “Acknowledged, bridge out.”

After grabbing a comlink, electric meter, and an assortment of replacement cables from a pile of formerly-organized tools, TC1 Grissom carefully descended the ladder access from Main Engineering to the crawlspaces of Deck 6, the ship’s underside. Avoiding a shower of sparks from a broken panel, he found himself in one of the central access tunnels. “EO, I’m in access tunnel 6-40-0-Q heading forward,” he said into his comlink as he crawled past pipes and clusters of wiring. “The turret power junction should be up ahead.” “Got it,” replied the EO’s voice. Grissom went through a hatch, then another one, and entered the slightly larger power junction room.

Here, he could almost stand up rather than crouch or crawl. Sure enough, the connection was severed in three places. “Three cables are broken. Rerouting to secondaries,” he reported as he started to unplug them and replace the connections, checking power on each one with the meter. Finally, all three were connected. “We’re all set, go ahead and put power to the system,” he said, hooking up the meter to read for any errors. “Power transferring now,” the EO replied, and the junction console lit up with green lights. “Connection successful!” said Grissom as the meter read no errors. “Coming back now.” He left the junction space, sealing it behind him, and proceeded back down the crawlspace toward the access ladder.

Suddenly, the ship shook violently and rolled him to the side of the crawlspace, then back again. Concerned by the sudden change in orientation, he continued at a faster pace, stopping when he heard a creaking, groaning noise from underneath him. _That can’t be good_ , he thought, recalling how close the deck of the crawlspaces were to the outside hull of the ship’s underside. His fears were confirmed as with a sudden _crack_ a section of the deck broke off just behind him, and the rushing sound of escaping air filled his ears. Holding on to the grating of the deck underneath him with one hand, he fumbled for his comlink with the other. He thumbed it on and yelled: “Hull breach! Space 6-30-0-Q is breached, seal off –“ But the rest of his statement was cut short, as the grating came loose and he was sucked free into space, where there was no sound to carry his words and no air to breathe.

Meanwhile, the _Vigilant_ had pivoted up on her port side and started to make way toward the cluster of asteroids where the enemy fire had come from, zig-zagging between bits of asteroids and nasty electrical discharges as Arcourt threaded the needle of the asteroid field. “Sensors, full sweep,” she ordered as the ship came around the side of the dense cluster of asteroids. “Target acquired,” said the quartermaster, who had taken on the duties of the sensors station after it was destroyed. “Corellian CR90 corvette, looks heavily modified.” “What the hell is a corvette like that doing here?” said Sheppard in surprise, looking to the captain.

“Good question, Ensign, but right now isn’t time to find out,” he said, taking his seat in the center of the bridge. “Right now, it’s time to start hitting back. All gunnery teams, open fire. Batteries one through three, target their turbolasers, batteries 4 through six, target the main sensor array just forward of the drive section.” “Roll us over further, helmsman. Come left to stay on target,” added Arcourt as the guns began to fire. The _Vigilant_ continued her roll, until the topside-mounted laser batteries faced the enemy corvette. End to end, the two ships approached slowly, the hammerhead-shaped CR90 and the triangular, blocky Customs corvette, as their guns pounded away at each other’s shields.

“Topside enemy shields are failing!” called out the quartermaster. “Redirect all fire at their upper turbolaser battery,” said Halcar immediately. “I want that gun turret silenced.” A few seconds of firing later, the _Vigilant_ ’s trained gun crews had broken through, and a burst of flame from the top of the enemy corvette showed where they had breached the hull. The _Vigilant’s_ guns hammered away at the exposed hull, leaving blackened holes and explosions in the wake of their fire. “Enemy corvette is vectoring away,” said the quartermaster excitedly. “Helm, keep us on them. Get us out from behind these asteroids,” said Arcourt as the ship slowly began to accelerate.

The CR90 had powerful engines, however, not like the slow freighters the _Vigilant_ was used to chasing, and after a few minutes had faded away into the nebula’s sensor interference. “Secure from Condition Red to Condition Yellow,” said Halcar finally after another few minutes of waiting with bated breath. “Sensors, can you confirm if the enemy corvette had jumped to lightspeed?” asked Arcourt. “There was a power spike about a minute ago – probably a jump but with all the storms in the system I can’t tell for sure, ma’am,” answered the crewman. “I suppose that’s it, then,” said Sheppard, breathing a sigh of relief. “I hope you’re right, Ensign,” replied the XO tiredly as she looked out at the swirling nebula, then at the shattered console where the medics had arrived to treat the injured crewmembers. “I hope you’re right.”


	7. Picking up the Pieces

ICC VIGILANT

QUORBAT SYSTEM

The next few hours were filled with damage control reports and casualty lists, as the captain and the XO managed the ship’s repair efforts until the situation was fully stabilized. The smell of smoke finally cleared from the air, and cleanup efforts could continue. Halcar and Arcourt looked at the final tally: four crewmembers dead, eighteen more injured, and almost all secondary systems in the ship fried from power overloads. The lifts had finally been repaired, making travel a bit more possible onboard. The two officers were silent for a long time as they read through the final damage report. “Helmsman, take us back to the station as soon as power to the hyperdrive is back,” said Halcar after a few minutes. “Marie, I’ll be in my quarters. We need to get in touch with the commodore about this attack, and…figure out where we go from here,” he continued, his voice stiff. “You alright, skipper?” she asked, taking the report from him as he headed for the lift. “I need time to think,” he answered shortly. “I’ll be okay, though.”

After arriving at Quorbat station, the ship’s casualties were moved from the ship’s limited medical facilities to the hospital on the station. Every day was filled with repair work and more reports, as the crew put aside their grief and concern and worked. There was a memorial service in one of the station’s cavernous hangar bays three days after their return, where several of the crewmembers spoke movingly about Grissom, Pelco, and the other two fallen crewmen. LTJG Vancil spoke about Grissom’s work ethic and sacrifice, his voice choked with emotion, while Ensign Sheppard wiped away tears.

After the service, Arcourt made her way to the hospital to check in on the crew members there, while Halcar attended a meeting with the station commander. After talking with several of the crew, she headed over to talk to her roommate, who was propped up on a pillow reading a book. “How are you doing, Nora?” she asked. “Not so bad, given the amount of shrapnel they had to pull out of me,” replied the other woman, smiling slightly. “Ow – still hurts to smile. Maybe I’ll have some scars to tell war stories to my grandkids about,” she continued as she ran her hand along the bandages on the side of her face. “Maybe you will,” said Arcourt, returning the smile. “I’m just glad you made it. After all, what would we do without your book advice – and your karaoke night skills?” Davis held back a laugh with difficulty. “Stop making me smile, Marie!” she complained jokingly, then continued: “Enough about me. How’s the ship?” “The ship’s fine, thankfully,” said Arcourt, sounding relieved. “Give us another few days and we’ll be ready to head back out. EO’s been saying that most of the damage can be repaired underway, so we should be able to leave soon.” “That’s good to hear,” replied Davis. “I wonder if I can talk the docs into letting me go with you all when the repairs are done.” “We’ll see,” Arcourt said, not sounding convinced that her friend would be fit for full duty that fast. “I should probably head back, there’s almost certainly a stack of messages waiting for me.” “See you, Marie. Thanks for stopping by,” said Davis, waving goodbye as Arcourt headed out of the hospital.

_ONE WEEK LATER_

After a week of repair work, slow progress, and piles of paperwork, the _Vigilant_ was finally underway again. As the ship cruised through the outskirts of the Quorbat system, the ship’s officers (minus LTJG Davis, who despite her insistence that she was ready for duty had not been discharged from the hospital) gathered for a meeting in the wardroom. “Good afternoon, everyone,” said Halcar as all the staff found places to sit. “First things first, I have to say: I couldn’t be prouder of all of you, and of this whole crew. The work you’ve done over the last few days, from taking on that corvette to dealing with our maintenance work, replacing our casualties, and everything else, has been very inspiring to see. However, there’s a lot of work ahead of us right now as well.”

“As you all probably know, while we were at the station doing repairs, the _Dauntless_ did a sweep through the nebula for signs of the mystery corvette. They didn’t see it, but their analysis of our sensor results has indicated that the corvette may have been associated with the Hutt Cartel, based on its markings and communications emissions. However, they did find a large load of debris from the battle and – now this is the kicker – debris and traces of the cargo from the freighter we were originally waiting for. Their scans, the debris they found, and the cargo traces have been sent to Area Command, and we have a copy of the data. I understand that Mr. Jenkins has once again shown his data analysis abilities and discovered some interesting connections – take it away, SUPPO.”

Jenkins stood up and activated the wardroom’s viewscreen, showing a large spreadsheet of data. “Thank you, sir. Looking at the data from the scans performed by the _Dauntless_ , we can pull a few key pieces of information.” He highlighted a row of entries on the sheet with a tap on his datapad, then continued: “First, the traces of the freighter cargo. Just as anticipated on the cargo manifest, the ship was carrying bulk grain, bound for a colony planet. However, the scans also showed something else.” The viewscreen zoomed in on a group of about half a dozen entries, switching to images of the debris – blackened and twisted pieces of durasteel, bits of wiring, and burned-out power components. “Mixed in with the cargo were these parts. The thing that’s strange about this is that these components don’t match anything on the freighter. They’re all completely different brands, and based on the _Dauntless_ materials analysis, they seem a lot newer than the parts of the freighter or the corvette that were recovered.”

LT Edson, the Operations Officer, raised his hand, and Jenkins turned to him. “Yes, sir?” “Jenkins, did the _Dauntless_ crew suspect based on what they found that the freighter had been destroyed, or merely damaged?” “As far as they could tell, they didn’t see signs of the freighter’s destruction. It looks as though it may have been subject to a hit-and-run attack.” “Interesting,” said Edson slowly. “Please continue, Mr. Jenkins.” “Certainly, sir. The debris from the corvette and the freighter was brought to Quorbat station four days ago. I went with EO and Ms. Sheppard in between maintenance work to take a look at the results in person – we found this correlation.” He brought up the scan results from the corvette debris and the freighter cargo debris and put them side by side.

Despite some irregularities, the results shown were very similar. “The primary difference we noticed was, as mentioned earlier, the age of the parts – the ones from the corvette showed a lot more wear. Strangely enough, both the debris from the corvette and from the freighter were identified as parts of military-grade weapons systems – Imperial-made weapons systems. Turbolaser batteries, concussion missile launchers, energy batteries, et cetera. There’s no way these weapons were mounted on the freighter originally, they must have been in the cargo hold or spaceport control would have detected them.” The officers were silent for a few seconds as they stared at the images on the screen. “Where did these parts come from?” asked Arcourt eventually, pointing at one of the fragments of a laser cannon. “If they were Imperial-made parts, they must have serial numbers or something we can trace.”

“They do, ma’am,” replied Jenkins, nodding. “Not all the parts were traceable, but we were able to check them against our parts database with some help from the _Dauntless_. We’d need to see the Navy’s databases to be absolutely sure, but as best we can tell these parts originated in the Ferdes system, at the 18th Sector Fleet HQ. They were written off as ‘damaged beyond repair’ a few weeks ago.” Halcar sat back in his chair, taking a sip of caf, as LTJG Vancil turned to him. “Captain, wasn’t that where the ship we were replacing came from?” “Possibly – let’s check.” Halcar scrolled through his files and found their original movement orders. Scrolling through it, he confirmed his suspicions. “EO’s right, folks. The _Lehigh_ , which is the corvette we replaced, is assigned to Vice Admiral Iridan of the 18th Sector Fleet.”

“I think we might need to give the _Lehigh_ ’s crew a call. How did they not see any of these irregularities we’ve been tracking if they were assigned to the same fleet?” said Arcourt darkly, looking over at the captain. “I agree,” said Halcar after a pause. “We need to take this further. The raw data has already been sent to the Area Commander, but he needs to see this report. Our orders came from him originally and he’ll want to know as soon as possible. He may be able to coordinate access to the Sector databases to confirm this theory. This brings me to the other point of news: Speaking of the Area Commander, Commodore Veleon will be visiting the system in two weeks aboard his headquarters ship, the _Defiant_. He will be inspecting the ship that Friday, and I intend to schedule a meeting with him regarding our recent findings…”


	8. Red Flags and Red Tape

ICC DEFIANT

QUORBAT SYSTEM

_TWO WEEKS LATER_

Suspended above the green and tan of the planet Quorbat 1, Quorbat Station slowly made its way around its orbit, the blocky grey design of the station made even more jarring in comparison to the swirling clouds of the planet by the addition of a large capital ship docked on one side. The _Defiant_ was an old _Acclamator-II_ class heavy assault ship from the end of the Clone Wars, built over fifteen years ago. She was a little over four times longer than the _Vigilant_ and her sister Customs corvettes, carrying a crew of almost 900 including staffers, techs, analysts, and some of the most skilled officers in the fleet. What was once home to a legion of Republic clone troopers now housed the mobile headquarters of the Imperial Office of Customs 2nd Outer Rim Area Command, or 2-ORAC for short.

Waiting in a large conference room somewhere inside the labyrinthine passages of the _Defiant_ , LCDR Halcar, LT Arcourt, and ENS Jenkins stood awkwardly next to the table. “Do you think we should sit down, sir?” asked Jenkins nervously with a glance towards his senior officers. Halcar and Arcourt exchanged a look of mutual uncertainty, then Halcar said: “Probably not. He should be here any –“ The hiss of the door opening and Arcourt’s sharp voice cut him off as the commodore entered: “Attention on deck!” she called, and the three officers snapped to attention with a _click_ of polished dress shoes.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” said Commodore Terren Veleon, striding past them with a nod and heading to the end of the table. “Take a seat, please.” The _Vigilant’_ s officers relaxed and sat down as the commodore did the same, watching as a group of other officers entered behind him and joined them at the table. Halcar recognized a few of them – the commodore’s chief of staff, Captain Renalda, the XO of the _Defiant_ , and a rather lost-looking fellow junior officer with a briefcase who must be someone’s aide, among others. “Everyone here?” asked the commodore, counting the people in the room and glancing at the JO with the briefcase. “Yes, sir,” said the JO after a quick look around. “Excellent. Let’s get started.”

A tan-skinned man with close-cropped greying hair and a somewhat pointed chin, Commodore Veleon already had almost thirty years of service in the Customs Office – and according to the rumors among the officers, he showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. He looked toward Halcar, Arcourt, and Jenkins and said: “So, for those of you who don’t know already, Commander Halcar of the _Vigilant_ and a few of his officers have discovered something interesting regarding a certain incident with a freighter a few weeks ago. Mr. Halcar?” “Thank you, Commodore,” said Halcar with a respectful nod.

Keeping his voice measured and calm as best he could when facing a tableful of senior officers, he addressed the group: “Approximately three weeks ago, the _Vigilant_ encountered an unknown hostile CR90 corvette while on patrol in the Mako Nebula. Further investigation after the battle by the crew of the ICC DAUNTLESS found traces of the ship we fought against and the bulk cargo freighter that we were searching for. With your permission, sir, I’d like to invite Mr. Jenkins, our Support Officer, to present his findings – he’s the one who did the majority of the analysis on this project.” The commodore nodded, and Jenkins got up and turned on the wall-mounted display screen.

After nervously brushing dust off of his uniform trousers, Jenkins began with a somewhat stilted formal introduction: “Good afternoon Commodore Veleon, Captain Renalda, Commander Paresini, Commander Halcar, and other distinguished officers. As the captain mentioned, we have been investigating the results of the _Dauntless_ ’ scan from after the battle with the unknown corvette…” Jenkins explained the correspondence between the debris from the corvette and the debris from the freighter, and linked it back to the Navy base from which it originated. As soon as he was done speaking, the questions started. Had they considered sensor error? Did the _Dauntless_ crew concur with their observations? What did they think the next steps were? Halcar, Arcourt, and Jenkins fielded the questions without too much difficulty, though there was a definite awkward silence after discussing the possibility of a connection to the previous Navy patrol ship.

Finally, the meeting came to an end, and the officers started to file out. “Halcar, Arcourt, I want a word with you,” said the commodore as the _Vigilant_ officers stood up to leave. Exchanging a slightly worried look, they joined the commodore at the far end of the table. Once everyone else was gone, the commodore lowered his voice and said: “You want to be careful, you two. This could be something big, I don’t know, but there’s a lot of toes you risk stepping on with this investigation.” “How so, sir?” asked Arcourt, her tone quiet and concerned. “Admiral Iridan’s a pretty big fish in the Navy, and he’s not someone you want to get on the bad side of,” replied the commodore. “You’ll have your database access, but be aware that there’s only so much I can do without more evidence. You would need more than just a few serial numbers to pin anything truly suspicious on the Navy.” Looking at Halcar, then at Arcourt, he said: “Good luck, you two. Watch your backs,” and he left.

The two _Vigilant_ officers went back to their seats and grabbed their notes, silent for a moment. Smoothing her dress skirt and then looking over to the captain, Arcourt asked: “What’s our next step, Skipper?” after a few moments of quiet. “We keep going,” replied Halcar, his expression tightening as he looked over in the direction that the commodore had left. “We know too much to stop now – if we don’t investigate this, no one will.” As they made their way out of the meeting room, Jenkins moved to join them.

“Jenkins, we got the database access we needed,” said Halcar as the junior officer followed them. “We need to confirm our theory and keep investigating. As soon as you get a chance, grab a few of the others – put together a team and double check all our findings against the databases. It’s time to get to the bottom of this mess, even if there’s some red tape in the way.” “Red tape, sir?” replied Jenkins, confused. “Red tape – it’s an old saying for policies and procedures that get in the way of doing your job,” explained Arcourt as they headed back to the airlock connecting the _Defiant_ to the station. “In this case,” continued the captain, “We have to be absolutely sure about the connections we’re proposing before we can take it any further. The commodore has given us the data we need – let’s put it to good use.”

The next day arrived, bringing with it a relief from the week’s preparations for the commodore’s visit, as the _Defiant_ headed off to continue its tour of the local units while the _Vigilant_ stayed at the station to resupply. Most of the crew was enjoying the weekend’s liberty time, but LCDR Halcar was still in his quarters, poring over sheet after sheet of inspection results from the commodore’s staff. As he scrolled through lists of ‘satisfactory’ and ‘unsatisfactory’ notes, his already limited concentration was completely broken by a knock on his door.

Without looking up, he said: “Come in,” as he finished reading. “Hey, Skipper,” said a familiar voice from the doorway. He looked over and saw Marie Arcourt at the door, dressed in a modestly cut casual green dress that matched her eyes, with her black hair loose from its usual bun. “Still working?” she continued, glancing over at the pile of notes from the inspection. “Still working,” he confirmed with a nod, putting down the paperwork and turning to face her. “It’s a weekend afternoon, captain. You work too hard,” she said with a bit of a playful tone, then continued: “Anyway, I was going to head over to that new café on the station for a late lunch, and I was wondering if you’d like to catch a little ‘fresh air’ and get off the ship for a bit.”

Halcar immediately had a few thoughts at the same time. Part of his mind pointed out that he still had a lot of work to do and didn’t have time, while another part countered that lunch with Marie sounded like a lot more fun than grading inspection results. _Watch yourself,_ he thought, based off his instincts. _Perception is reality. What would the crew think if they saw you and her eating lunch together?_ Throwing caution to the winds and silencing that thought, he told himself: _It’s just stopping for lunch at the café. I’m not asking her to marry me or anything._ His entire mental argument took place in the space of about a second, after which he replied: “That sounds great, Marie. I’ll get changed and meet you at the airlock in a few minutes.” “See you then, Skipper,” she said with a smile and left, the door sliding shut behind her.

A few minutes later, Halcar arrived at the airlock leading from the ship to the station, having swapped his uniform for a dark red dress shirt and tan jacket with matching slacks. “Sorry if I kept you waiting,” he called over to Marie, seeing her leaning against the wall next to the airlock door. “No problem,” she answered, waving away the apology. “Shall we?” he said, opening the door for her. They made their way through the station together, chatting a little about the recent events on the ship and how complicated everything was getting. “I miss the good old days of just shooting at pirates and talking to random freighter captains,” said Halcar wryly as they arrived at the restaurant, easily located by the colorful sign which read “The Hermes Café”. “You and me both,” agreed Marie while they sat down at a table. “Anyway, enough about work,” Halcar said with a shrug, then looked up from the menu at Marie.

“So, let’s see. You’re from Coruscant, I know that much –“ “I wonder how you could tell,” said Marie sarcastically, in her usual clipped accent. “Well, the accent does help jog my memory,” he shot back jokingly. “Good – I couldn’t shake it if I wanted to,” she said, going along with the banter. “Did you ever try?” he asked with a touch of mischief. She glanced from side to side, seeing if anyone was watching, then said in her best exaggerated imitation of her roommate’s Corellian drawl: “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. What’s the big idea?” Halcar raised his eyebrows at her failed attempt at hiding her accent, trying to otherwise maintain a straight face, then they made eye contact, and both burst out laughing. “Okay, maybe the accent’s not so bad the way it is,” she said at last. “Probably for the best,” agreed Halcar.

Smiling, he continued: “Anyhow, Coruscant’s a big place. What part of the city did you grow up in?” “By the Federal District. My parents were military, so I spent most of my childhood in and out of the various bases there.” “Sounds exciting,” he replied as he decided on a sandwich for lunch. “Not really,” she answered, shaking her head. “See, my parents were always gone for something – duty here, a meeting there – one thing or another. I spent all my time studying, in school, or with friends...” As Halcar listened, he found himself admiring the flow of her dark hair resting on her shoulders and the rhythm of her speech – crisp and clear, with an edge that could go to playfulness, sarcasm, or the snap of a command in a heartbeat.

“What about your family?” she asked, shaking him out of his thoughts. “Well, I grew up in Tyrena,” he explained, thinking back to the towers and streets of his hometown on Corellia. “It’s a big tourist trap of a city along the Auric River – beaches, hotels, plazas, you name it, we got it. Mom worked for a restaurant, and Dad ran security at one of the hotels. Between her long hours and his strange schedule…suffice it to say I had a busy childhood too.” “I guess we have that much in common,” she replied as their food arrived. “This looks…interesting,” she said after the waiter left, poking with her fork at the plate of multicolored noodles in front of her. “Only one way to find out,” challenged Halcar, giving his sandwich a sideways look. “When they said joining the military would be an adventure, I don’t think this was what they had in mind,” Marie said with a laugh, as they started their lunch.

Once their meal (which despite its strange appearance, was rather tasty) and conversation drew to a close and they had both paid, the two officers made their way back to the ship. They presented their ID cards to the security watch and were admitted onboard, now discussing more pressing matters than casual family history as they rode the lift up to Deck 3, where the officers’ quarters were. “I’m going to talk to the CO of the _ISS Lehigh_ on Monday – see if he can confirm what we’ve been investigating. Hopefully, whatever he has to say will make things clearer, not more complicated,” remarked Halcar as they arrived.

“Hopefully so,” agreed Marie, coming to a stop in the hallway. “Well, it was great having lunch with you, Marie. We should do this again sometime,” said the captain, turning to face her briefly. “Sounds like a good idea to me. I’ll see you later, Skipper,” she replied as they went their separate ways. “See you later, XO,” he called back over his shoulder as he got to his cabin.

_That went well,_ he thought to himself, putting away his jacket in his locker. _Having romantic feelings for your own XO isn’t exactly a career-prolonging move,_ reminded the voice of his experience in the service. _Marie’s only two years behind me,_ he remembered, searching for a counterargument. _She’s up for Lieutenant Commander in a few months – and once she got reassigned, then it wouldn’t be fraternization…_ After a few minutes of mental back and forth while he got changed, he shook aside daydreams and got back to work. “No one ever said being in command would be easy,” he said quietly with a bit of a smile.


	9. Cloak and Dagger

ISD VINDICTIVE, 18th SECTOR FLEET FLAGSHIP

FERDES SYSTEM

High heels clicking on the perfectly shiny floor of the _Vindictive_ ’s command deck as she walked, LT Vanissa Rodgers bit her lip nervously as she approached Vice Admiral Iridan’s office. The admiral didn’t like being bothered outside of the usual preset schedule of meetings, but this was an exception. A priority message had just arrived from the ISS _Lehigh_ flagged for the admiral’s eyes only, and she had decided that for something this important he’d want to hear about it in person – a decision she was now questioning. In a moment of indecision, she considered taking the encrypted datapad back to the comms room and sending it to him personally so she wouldn’t have to face either Iridan’s quick temper or his thinly veiled advances, both of which were highly annoying.

Finally deciding against it, she pressed the notification key next to the office door, sounding the faint _ding_ tone that announced a visitor. “Yes?” said the admiral’s voice immediately. “Admiral, it’s Lieutenant Rodgers,” said the blonde officer, swallowing her hesitation and speaking with her usual charm and tact. “We just received an encrypted message from the ISS _Lehigh_ , marked for your attention.” The door slid open, and Admiral Iridan was right behind it. “Understood. Appreciate it, LT – anything else?” he said curtly as he took the datapad. “No, sir, that’s all.” The door slid shut, and she breathed out a quiet sigh of relief. _Not my problem anymore,_ she thought to herself as she walked away.

Vice Admiral Gallen Iridan sat down at his desk and opened the message on his private computer terminal, keying in his passcode and looking into the camera for a facial recognition scan. “Confirmed,” said the bland voice of the computer, the screen lighting up with the image of the _Lehigh_ ’s commanding officer, Lieutenant Commander Garm Melnau, which began to speak: “Good afternoon, Admiral. I recently received a communication from a Lieutenant Commander Halcar of the Customs Office regarding several incidents that he alleges took place in the Mako Nebula after we left the system. I’ve enclosed a copy of his message at the end of this file for your review – his crew claims to have discovered a connection between a freighter that disappeared from the system and some parts discarded from the Ferdes system base. What he’s describing doesn’t make sense to me, but I knew you’d want to hear about this immediately…”

After the CO finished his report, a recording of Halcar’s original video call played and confirmed what Iridan was worried about: _The bastard is on to something._ He put the datapad down and closed the computer, staring at the wall of his office. _This will not do at all. Just my luck to end up choosing the one smart Customs ship in the sector…well, we can fix that._ He cued up a list of other military vessels in the area and selected one from the list. _That’s better,_ he thought with satisfaction. _Now, let’s draft some orders and make this official_.

ICC VIGILANT

QUORBAT SYSTEM

“To: Commanding Officer, ICC _Vigilant_ , From: 18th Sector Fleet HQ, Ferdes System. Subject: OPORDER 1066-90. Your patrol cycle is hereby canceled. Make best speed to Naboo system and report to 12th Fleet command for assignment as a fleet escort. All other existing orders and standing orders remain in effect. ISS _Pollux_ is to relieve you of patrol duty.” Lieutenant Commander Halcar stopped reading and put down the printed orders, watching his staff’s reactions. LT Arcourt looked indignant and angry, while ENS Jenkins looked as surprised as if someone had just hit him across the face.

A second of silence followed, then several people started talking at once. “Skipper, are we just supposed to –“ “Sir, what do we –“ “I don’t think –“ Halcar held up a hand, and eventually the outburst calmed down. “I can see we all have some concerns about this. Let’s talk about options – one at a time.” Jenkins tentatively raised his hand, and Halcar called on him. “SUPPO?” “This says other existing orders/standing orders remain in effect, but it seems like not finishing this investigation would be a breach of the Commandant’s standing orders – it doesn’t make sense.” “Agreed, that is problematic. XO?” “Captain, there’s got to be a way to finish this. We can’t let this issue get swept under the rug.” The conversation continued for a few minutes, then LT Edson put in a reply: “Just spitballing an idea here, sir, but what if we tried this…”

After he finished, the staff sat quietly, eyeing the captain for his reaction. “OPS, that might be the craziest idea I’ve ever heard,” said Halcar finally, looking over at Edson. “It also might just work,” he continued. “Unless anyone else has anything?” He scanned the room, gauging the mood. LTJG Vancil looked uncomfortable, but kept his mouth shut. Many of the officers looked slightly surprised that he was considering Edson’s plan, but after a bit more discussion they had adopted a course of action that everyone (everyone who spoke up, that is) seemed to agree on. “Okay, sounds like we have a plan. We’ll start preparations immediately; time is going to be of the essence. The _Ella Grace_ departs the station in approximately 14 hours, and we’ll need to meet her before then. Questions or comments?” The room stayed silent – even the usually talkative Ensign Sheppard was staying quiet on this one. “Dismissed. Get some rest, check in with your people, make sure everything goes as planned,” said Halcar, and everyone started to clear out.

Halcar would usually be the last to leave, wanting to hang back in case anyone had an individual question for him, but he headed out early to meet with SCPO Obrik immediately given the new developments. LT Arcourt took her notes and headed for the door, only to find LTJG Vancil waiting by the door, looking troubled. “Can I talk to you for a second, XO?” he asked, his tone serious. “Sure, Vancil,” she replied cautiously as he closed the door. He started talking: “Ma’am, I didn’t feel safe bringing this up with the group, but I’m not comfortable with this plan. Do we really have to go outside the chain of command?”

“We tried the chain of command and it didn’t get us anywhere. The commodore told us – it’s hard to pin anything on the Navy because Iridan outranks him and we don’t have enough proof,” she replied tiredly.

“So what, we’re just supposed to disobey orders and run off to go investigate for ourselves? Last time we did something innovative that the captain proposed we got into a slugging match with pirates,” said Vancil with a hint of challenge.

Her tone rising in response, Arcourt fired back: “You have a better plan, Vancil? Or do you just want to complain? I’m getting really tired of your attitude.”

“With all due respect, my attitude isn’t the problem here. The problem here is that we seem to be acting like we can just ignore the chain of command and get away with it. I don’t know about you, Arcourt, but I want to still have a career after this ship,” said the engineering officer, pointing an accusatory finger at her.

“You’re out of line, Vancil,” snapped Arcourt coldly, her voice losing a bit of her characteristic control and clarity in her anger. “The order stands. I don’t care what you have to do - get it together and make sure your team is ready. I’ll be having a word with the captain about this.”

Posture locked ramrod straight and hands clenched into fists, she stormed past the EO and out into the hallway, quickly arriving back at her quarters and slamming her notepad down on her desk. LTJG Davis was still stuck on the station, though she had been released from the hospital, so Arcourt had the room to herself. Finally taking a deep breath, she let the adrenaline drain away – just in time for the door to chime a notification of a visitor. Bottling up the urge to scream at whoever it was, she said with as much calmness as she could muster: “Come in.” The door slid open and it was Ensign Sheppard, her qualification packet in hand. “Good morning, ma’am,” she said brightly, completely unaware of the argument that had taken place in the wardroom a few minutes ago. “I was wondering about scheduling my OOD qualification board…”

His meeting with the ship’s command chief finished, LCDR Halcar headed back to his quarters to try and hammer out the details of their new plan. Opening the draft document they had created during the meeting, he scrolled through it. _The navigation team comes onboard at this time, then disembarks upon arrival in Ferdes system and the boarding team comes on. Everything depends on getting that boarding started on time once we arrive_ , he thought as he typed in a few more notes. A few hours went by, which he spent catching up on the rest of his work and meeting with one or two more staff members, and then he took a break to walk around the ship before dinner. On his way to the wardroom, he saw Arcourt heading back to her quarters. He said hello, and she looked over to him with a bit of a smile, but it seemed a bit forced to him. “Hey, Skipper, do you have a minute later tonight? There’s something I need to talk to you about.” Concerned by her seriousness, he said: “Sure, Marie. I’m about to get a bite to eat and then come by and we can talk about it.”


	10. All Hands on Deck

ICC VIGILANT

QUORBAT SYSTEM

LCDR Halcar didn’t enjoy his dinner very much (which was too bad, since it was one of MC2’s best ‘specials’), seeing as he was distracted by both the upcoming operations and wondering what had bothered LT Arcourt so much earlier that day. Finishing up, he headed back to his quarters and checked to make sure he didn’t have any urgent messages, then keyed his terminal to call over to Arcourt’s stateroom. “Marie, if you want to come by and talk I’m available now.” “Be right there, skipper,” she said promptly, and he sat back to wait for her. It wasn’t a long wait, seeing as they lived right down the hall from each other, and a minute or so later his door chimed. “Come in,” he said, looking toward the door as it swished open.

As she walked in, he said: “Okay, XO. Talk to me – what’s going on?” She took a deep breath, then glanced over, realizing that unlike most staterooms, there was only one chair in the CO’s room. “Would you mind if I –“ she said, pointing to the simple, flat bed along one wall of the room. “Sure, have a seat,” he replied, turning to face her as she did so. “Thanks,” she said, sitting down and starting to talk. “This morning at the staff meeting, after you left, I had a conversation – actually, argument would be a better term for it – with our EO.” She recounted the story and what both of them had said. “Frankly, I’m disappointed in his behavior, and I think he needs a reprimand in his record,” she finished, looking at Halcar for approval. He paused for a moment, frowning as he considered what happened. “You’ve both got a point, I think,” he said slowly, meeting her eyes as he continued. “I don’t care for that kind of defensive attitude either, but he’s right that the last time we took a risk there were pretty serious consequences.”

“Yes, but we got valuable information about this smuggling investigation that we never would have gotten otherwise,” she pointed out. “Sure, but you didn’t have to write the letters to the families of those three crewmembers, explaining why their loved ones died,” he said with a edge of frustration. Seeing her shocked expression, he immediately added: “I’m sorry if that sounded harsh, Marie. I just mean that there’s a lot riding on this mission and I don’t want to lose more good people.” He stood up and paced the room for a moment, finally sitting down next to her. She turned to look at him, making eye contact as she said confidently: “I understand the risks, Skipper. We all do, but we’re with you – even despite the issue I brought up, I don’t believe that this crew will let you down. I’ll back you all the way on this one.”

The total sincerity with which she said it and the strange look in her eyes took him by surprise. In that moment as he looked back at her, he was struck by how beautiful she really was, even in a drab grey uniform jacket and slacks. _I told myself not to fall into this trap, but it’s too late now. I can’t avoid how I feel any longer, especially after what she just said,_ he thought as his eyes looked to where her left hand sat on the sheets. _You’ve commanded a ship in battle,_ he thought to himself challengingly, _but you’re struggling to find the courage to hold a woman’s hand. Should I? It’s not so hard – just do it already!_ Finally overcoming his hesitation, he reached out and gently took her hand in his. As he did so, he said: “It means a lot to hear you say that, Marie. There’s no one else on this ship whose trust means more to me than yours. Not because of your job…but because of who you are, and what I’ve seen that you stand for. You’re an amazing woman, Marie. I suppose what I’m saying is, I…want you to be happy, whatever happens.”

Her green eyes went wide with surprise for a moment, then she returned his gaze, her face blushing bright pink as she said: “Skipper, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I…” Her voice trailed off as she looked down with uncharacteristic shyness. Halcar’s heart sank as he let go of her hand and replied quickly with forced casualness: “It’s okay, I wouldn’t want you to feel pressured or anything if you don’t –“ She interrupted by reaching over, grabbing his collar to pull him closer, and kissing him. After a second of shock, he drew her into his arms instinctively as he kissed her back.

Finally, after a few seconds they broke apart, flushed and staring at each other. “Well, I suppose that answers that question,” said Halcar with a nervous smile, causing her to laugh. “It sure does,” she said, taking his hand again. “You know, there are rules against this sort of thing,” he pointed out with a raised eyebrow. “There are, I suppose,” she conceded, then added with a wink: “I won’t tell if you won’t, skipper.” “It’ll be our secret,” he agreed, putting an arm around her shoulders.

They chatted happily for a few minutes about various non-mission critical topics and embraced once or twice more, then the conversation began to return to business. “There’s something I need to ask you,” Halcar said finally, confronting the thought he had been blocking out for the last few minutes. “Ask away, skipper,” she said, still with a bit of a flirtatious tone. “About the freighter,” he continued, and his face showed that it was serious. “I’ve been thinking about how the plan’s going to work, and – well, I suppose what it comes down to is this. There’s only one way that we can make this work, but…karabast, I don’t want to do it.”

The smile left Arcourt’s face as she nodded knowingly. “You want me to take the conn of the freighter, don’t you?” He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. The fact of the matter is, there’s no one better qualified than you. No one else on this ship (and that includes me) is a better ship driver than you, and we need the best if that freighter’s going to make it. The catch is, I don’t want…” he trailed off for a moment and looked at the ground. “You don’t have to tell me, skipper,” she said quietly. “I know what we have to do, and I would have volunteered if you hadn’t brought it up. This is the best way to make sure this job goes correctly and everyone stays safe, so count me in – I’ll do it.” “Okay,” he said in reply, taking a deep breath and looking back at her, only to be interrupted by an announcement from the bridge: “Now, for the information of all hands, _Vigilant_ will be exiting hyperspace in 05 minutes.”

“We should probably go,” she said, glancing over to the door. “We should,” he agreed. “I wish we had more time,” he continued with a hint of sadness, shaking his head as he stood up and grabbed his cover from the desk, then offered his hand to pull her to her feet. “Ready, XO?” he said, his tone back to business, as they walked to the door. “Ready, skipper,” she replied, giving his hand a squeeze as they left the room, then hastily letting go before the crewmen coming down the hallway could see.

_Vigilant_ arrived out of hyperspace, just outside Quorbat station. “We won’t have much time to run this, so we have to make every minute count,” said LT Edson quietly from his post near the viewscreen as the ship prepared to dock. “Agreed,” said Halcar with a nod. “Sensors, can you confirm that the _Ella Grace_ is docked?” “Yes, sir,” replied the crewman at the rebuilt sensor console, bringing up a map of the station on the side of the viewscreen. “ _Ella Grace_ is at docking port 9,” continued the crewman. “Very well,” Halcar acknowledged, turning to ENS Olivar, who was waiting behind the captain’s chair. “Ms. Olivar, bring us in to docking port 10. Signal the security and navigation detail to stand by, and get me a channel to the _Grace_.” Olivar took charge of the ship’s movements, talking with the station to coordinate the approach, while the communications crewman brought up a video connection to the docked bulk freighter.

After a brief delay, the screen came to life and showed a simple command center, adorned with various knickknacks and a few mismatched chairs. At first there was no one in the picture, then a Twi’lek man with green skin hurried into the picture and sat in one of the larger chairs, looking awkwardly at the camera. “Good evening, sir,” said the man hesitantly. “What can I do for you?” “I’d like a word with the captain, please,” said Halcar, clearing his throat. “That’s me,” replied the man cautiously. “Jem Danz’erik at your service. Is this an inspection?” “No,” Halcar answered slowly. “My name is Lieutenant Commander Halcar, I’m the commanding officer of the cutter _Vigilant._ We have received intelligence that suggests your freighter may be a target for a criminal smuggling ring.”

Immediately Danz’erik went on the defensive: “Sir, I can assure you, we’ve done nothing wrong, I have all my permits if you need to see-“ “You misunderstand, captain,” said Halcar, cutting across the other man’s protestations. “I’m not accusing you of smuggling anything – in fact, I think you can be of help to us in stopping these smugglers once and for all and making this trade route safer.” There was a pause as Danz’erik considered what he was saying, then the Twi’lek responded: “What do you need?”

“You’re headed for the Ferdes system, correct?” asked Halcar. “Yes…why?” replied the freighter captain. “We want to make sure that your ship isn’t involved in any altercations with would-be smugglers along the way,” Halcar explained. “To that end, we will be placing a team of specialists onboard your vessel to supervise your transit through the Mako Nebula. They’ll leave as soon as this is all over.” “Fine, go ahead,” said Danz’erik, already sounding bored. “Onboard inspectors – anything else?” “That’s all we need, captain,” Halcar said as professionally as he could. “Our team will be at the airlock soon, and we’ll rendezvous with your ship in the Ferdes system to pick them up later.”

With a few more formalities, the path was clear for the _Vigilant_ team to board the freighter. LT Arcourt and ENS Jenkins reported to the bridge to check in with the captain, while the rest of the boarding team mustered by the airlock. “Our new friend wasn’t exactly very receptive to having an Imperial team onboard,” Halcar was saying, “However, I bet that’ll change when there’s shots being fired. We’ve already confirmed that the _Ella Grace_ has the same abnormal sensor readings that indicated the presence of the stolen parts on the other vessels, so now it’s just a matter of getting them there safely. We’ll meet you on the other side – be ready.” “We’ll be there, Skipper,” replied Arcourt as they nodded, and Halcar looked around the bridge for a moment. The eyes of the crewmen looked to him and the two officers with him expectantly, waiting for the next step.

Suddenly, Halcar had an idea. “Quartermaster, give me a shipwide channel,” he said, walking over to the back station. “Channel’s open, sir,” said the crewman, giving Halcar the handset. “All hands, this is the captain. I know this has been a strange tour for all of us, and we’re in uncharted space right now as far as this plan is concerned. I ask that you trust me and trust your supervisors, knowing that what we’re doing will make a difference. Whatever happens next, I wanted to take this opportunity to thank all of you for your hard work, patience, and diligence as we prepared for this plan. I’m proud of this crew, and we’re going to do a damn good job on this mission – and whatever our future holds next. Good luck, _Vigilant_ crew – let’s get started.” He cut the transmission and caught Arcourt’s eye. The two exchanged a small smile and a subtle nod, then he said: “XO, Mr. Jenkins, best of luck. See you in a few hours.”


	11. This Conversation Never Happened

QUORBAT STATION

 _This body armor was not designed for women,_ thought Marie Arcourt as she readjusted the straps for the fourth time. Even an athletic woman like Arcourt felt squeezed, bulky, and uncomfortable in the hard plasteel chestplate that she had buckled over her grey uniform undershirt, replacing her uniform cap with a helmet. _On the other hand,_ she thought wryly as she finished adjusting the straps, _uncomfortable is widely considered to be better than dead._ After grabbing their gear from the ship’s armory, Arcourt and Jenkins joined up with the handful of crewmen and technicians (and a dozen white-armored stormtroopers) that rounded out their boarding team and made their way aboard the bulk freighter.

“I really don’t see why this is necessary,” protested the _Ella Grace_ ’s engineer as Jenkins and the techs hooked up several devices to the shield console on the bridge. Arcourt gritted her teeth in suppressed frustration, biting back the urge to tell off the engineer – and this whole civilian crew, really – for their lack of professionalism and stubborn refusal to cooperate. Ensign Jenkins tried to explain for the third time since they had come onboard: “Sir, we’re compensating for the irregularities in your shield generator system, to make it more effective against directed energy such as laser fire when in the environment of the Mako Nebula. Everything we’re doing right now is helping you be safer during the rest of this trip.”

“Fine,” sighed the engineer after exchanging a surly look with Captain Danz’erik, who had remained rather subdued since the Customs crew and their stormtrooper escort had arrived. “Just do it quickly, okay? We have a schedule to keep here.” As Jenkins and the others completed their work, Arcourt checked the display screens. _Two minutes to the Mako Nebula. Crunch time for all the work we just did…and our entire plan,_ she thought with a twinge of nervousness.

Quietly, she signaled one of the stormtroopers on the bridge, and with a nod the trooper left the room. As she watched the trooper leave and the techs finished up, she recalled LT Edson’s description of their plan: _The stormtroopers will spread out to the key areas of the ship in case of a boarding attempt by the Hutt forces. Our crew will stay on the bridge and make sure the ship doesn’t slow down for any reason – time is of the essence. The second you’re clear of the nebula, get out of the system._

“Exiting hyperspace in ten,” said one of the freighter’s crewmen, looking over his shoulder at the captain, who nodded in acknowledgement. “Five, four, three, two, one, mark – disengaging hyperdrive.” The starlines shot back into points of light, surrounded by swirling purple clouds and passing rocky asteroids. “On track to turn - come around to heading 330, mark 10,” said the ship’s navigator from her station in the back of the bridge, and the helmsman brought the ship around at a word from the captain.

The lack of visible danger finally brought the Twi’lek captain out of his thoughtful silence, as he stood up and addressed the Customs crew: “Well, here we are in the nebula. Anything particular I should be looking for?” “Scan for drive signatures and heat sources,” suggested Arcourt, gesturing at the tumbling asteroids around them. “If there’s someone out there, they’re probably on minimal power until they spot a target.”

“Very well, you heard the lieutenant,” said the captain in reply with a shrug, then continued: “I doubt there’ll be much to find, Officer –remind me of your name?” “Lieutenant Arcourt.” “Officer Arcourt, unless there’s anything else you’d like to see here, I would like to carry on with doing my job as soon as possible, so we’ll proceed to the jump point. Should be about a twenty-minute trip.”

About fifteen minutes in to the journey, there was still no sign of Hutt activity. Jenkins shifted uncomfortably from side to side next to Arcourt as they watched the screen, the big freighter lumbering its way through the nebula and avoiding asteroids. A flash of energy arced between the clouds of gas outside the ship, and in its momentary light the two Customs officers saw something. A shadow of a shape – a pointed, wicked-looking attack ship with turrets that swiveled to face the freighter as it approached. “Hostile contact incoming, port bow,” reported Jenkins urgently, just as the crew stations lit up with alarms and all the civilian crew started talking at once: “Two contacts, starboard side –“ “Unidentified vessel closing from astern –“ “New contact, bearing 230 –“. Then, before the captain had even gotten out of his chair again, the ship was suddenly under fire.

The bridge shook violently, threatening to throw the crew to the deck. “Shields at 60%,” said one of the crew members, already looking panicked. The bridge shook again, and Arcourt grabbed the console next to her for support. “25 percent!” said the same crewmember frantically. “Calm down,” Arcourt said in a commanding tone, taking charge of the situation. “All engine power ahead, get us out of here. Pull power from every available system and give it to the shields – we have enough oxygen to get through the next few minutes without refreshing the air, but without shields and engines we won’t last thirty seconds.”

The crewman at the helm obeyed reluctantly, looking like he very much wanted to leave the bridge entirely. “I really hope you know what you’re doing,” said Captain Danz’erik warningly as the bridge shook for a third time. “Starboard side shields are failing,” said the panicked crewman from earlier, looking around for answers or help and not seeing any. “Time to jump point?” asked Arcourt matter-of-factly, not taking her eyes off the incoming ships.

“Four minutes,” said Jenkins in a tightly controlled voice. “It’s going to be close,” said Arcourt, doing a bit of mental guesstimating of their chances. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden _bang_ and a feeling like the deck had just been picked up and twisted sideways. “Collision!” shouted one of the crewmembers as an alarm started going off. “Hull breach on starboard side, access corridor five.” “Seal and lock all compartment doors,” said Arcourt immediately. “Prepare to repel boarders.”

“Hang on just a second,” protested the captain. “Who are these people? What do they want? If you know so much about what’s going on, why didn’t you tell us earlier?” Arcourt ignored his questions as she heard the sound of blasterfire from outside the bridge. “Get behind cover,” she ordered, drawing her sidearm and taking up a position behind the navigator’s console. The navigator and the rest of the crew scattered, some of them drawing hold-out blasters but most of them just hiding behind the most solid-looking object they could find between themselves and the entry door to the bridge.

A few awkward seconds of near silence went by, interrupted only by intermittent blaster fire from outside, then finally another _bang_ as the door was kicked in from the other side. A big Weequay thug with a heavy blaster burst in. spraying fire all over the bridge, followed by a crowd of other hired guns. Arcourt leaned around the console and opened fire, taking down one of the thugs with a clean headshot and clipping another one in the shoulder.

Jenkins was also opening fire from behind the captain’s chair (albeit with little accuracy), while the two stormtroopers took down several thugs in a row with sheer volume of blaster fire. Arcourt came out of cover to line up another shot, both hands on her sidearm as she aimed for a tattooed human ruffian charging in from the hallway, and felt a sharp pain in her left side as a shot burned through the edge of her chestplate and grazed her ribs. Cursing quietly, she ducked back behind the console again and glanced up at the display screen. _Two more minutes._

With the sound of armored boots, the other troopers from around the ship began to converge on the bridge after finally securing the small transport that had deliberately rammed the freighter. However, the last few thugs weren’t going to go quietly. Arcourt saw two of the crewmembers get shot by the ruffian she had tried to hit earlier, and fueled by frustration, fired blindly in the general direction of the thug. None of her shots hit the mark, but they drove the tattooed Hutt agent out from his position behind the helm and into a fusillade of blaster fire from the three stormtroopers that had just charged through the doorway.

Now that all the troopers had arrived, it was easier to subdue the last two thugs and secure the ship for hyperspace – but the ship was still under fire from the rest of the hostiles. “Get us out of here, helm!” said Arcourt with a wary eye at the growing number of failed systems on the display board. Fortunately for the crew of the _Ella Grace_ , the hyperdrive was not one of them, and the ship shot away from its attackers faster than their guns could follow.

ISD VINDICTIVE, 18th SECTOR FLEET FLAGSHIP

ORBIT, FERDES SYSTEM

Just as he was about to be relieved for a break, another blip appeared on Sensor Operator 2nd Class Georg Severen’s screen. He frowned at the screen and tried to wish the blip away, but it didn’t disappear, so he had to report it. “Conn, Sensors – new contact, headed inbound from hyperspace on course zero three five relative. AVIS identifies it as bulk freighter _Ella Grace_.”

The AVIS, or Automated Vessel Information System, was the primary means of identify friend-or-foe communications between civilian vessels under the Empire, and every cargo or passenger ship was assigned a code indicating its origin and destination upon departing a station. Severen read off the _Ella Grace_ ’s information to the officer standing watch on the bridge: “Cargo: bulk grain and dry goods, Origin: Quorbat Station.” “Very well,” replied the ship’s Officer of the Deck from the walkway above the Star Destroyer’s crew pits, the slightly claustrophobic spaces that were home to the majority of the massive warship’s bridge crew. “Comms, contact the station and schedule a standard inspection for the _Ella Grace_ ,” continued the OOD.

Seeing as this routine bulk freighter wasn’t his problem anymore, Severen decided it was high time to switch out. He was halfway out of his seat when another contact came into view on the sensors on a crossing course with the one he had just reported. This one was flagged immediately on his screen, since it was transmitting an Imperial military comm code. “Conn, Sensors – Customs Cutter _Vigilant_ incoming from hyperspace on course one zero zero.” The comms crewman added on to his report: “They’re opening a broad-spectrum channel, sir.” There was a moment’s pause, and then the OOD said: “Put it through. Let’s listen to what’s going on here.”

The customs ship had opted to use a broad-spectrum channel, which was the starship equivalent of shouting your message into a megaphone. Obviously, they wanted the whole system to know what they were about to say. A brief crackle of static, and then a voice came through: “Freighter _Ella Grace_ , this is the Imperial Customs Corvette _Vigilant._ You have been identified as smuggling illegal cargo – stop your vessel immediately and prepare to be boarded.”

On the battle-scarred bridge of the _Ella Grace,_ the announcement may as well have been a punch in the face for the surviving civilian crew. Immediately all of them backed away from the Customs Office personnel and stormtroopers who had been their allies not that long ago, as Captain Danz’erik stormed to the front of the bridge and pointed a green-skinned finger in LT Arcourt’s face. “You set us up!” he said accusingly. “Sir, calm down,” said Arcourt warningly, but the captain wasn’t going to listen.

“I told you this ship was clean. You checked it yourselves with your fancy scanners and sent your people to watch us almost get killed, and now you accuse us of smuggling in front of the guns of a Star Destroyer!” he ranted, gesturing at the kilometer-long patrolling warship that was directly in front of the freighter. The comm panel broke in again with a new voice – that of the Star Destroyer’s OOD. “ _Vigilant_ , _Ella Grace_ , this is the Star Destroyer _Vindictive_. Be advised, a boarding team from Ferdes Station is already en route. _Ella Grace,_ hold your position and prepare to be boarded.”

Lieutenant Commander Halcar nodded slowly as he looked out the viewscreen, seeing the bulk freighter dwarfed by the massive Imperial war machine, with the distant greens, browns, and blues of the planet far below. _Just as we figured they would,_ he thought darkly before picking up the comms handset and switching to a direct frequency. “ _Vindictive_ , this is _Vigilant_. We have been in pursuit of this vessel for the past several hours and are already preparing for a boarding. Your station’s boarding team can stand down.” _Now we figure out if this great plan of ours actually works._

“ _Vigilant_ , _Vindictive_. That’s a negative, _Vigilant,_ this one’s our jurisdiction.” Halcar smiled as the Navy OOD took the bait, and sent his response: “ _Vindictive, Vigilant_. Per Navy and ICO regs, the Customs Office has boarding priority in a case like this by the hot pursuit clause,” he said, invoking a commonly-used legal justification for boardings.” _This game of wits can go on for a while. Fortunately, we have an ace up our sleeve_.

While the _Ella Grace_ had been gone, the _Vigilant’_ s crew had been busy, contacting Commodore Veleon’s office to explain the situation. _It may have cut a few years off the end of my career and a few points off my next evaluation, but it worked_ , recalled Halcar. The commodore had agreed to support a joint Customs Office/Navy boarding team as a compromise, knowing that there would inevitably be disagreement between the ships once Halcar and the _Vigilant_ crew arrived.

As the crew of the _Ella Grace_ continued to argue with their Customs Office ride-alongs, the back-and-forth continued between the two Imperial ships as the _Vigilant_ slowly approached the _Ella Grace_. Halcar continued to insist on Customs authority, and the Star Destroyer’s inexperienced OOD was getting more and more confused the more regulations Halcar threw into the conversation. “Per Commandant’s Instruction 6456.3, _Rules of Engagement for Vessels of the Customs Office_ , ‘all Customs Cutters shall pursue and investigate ships suspected of smuggling upon probable cause, testimony, or evidence,’” he read off from the list of legal justifications the ship’s officers had put together.

Finally, when Halcar proposed the commodore’s plan as an “acceptable compromise,” the Star Destroyer’s OOD jumped at the opportunity: “ _Vigilant_ , this is _Vindictive._ Ferdes Station boarding team will rendezvous with you upon arrival at the _Ella Grace_ and complete the boarding together.” “Roger that, _Vindictive. Vigilant_ out,” responded Halcar, already cueing the helmsman to accelerate. “Helm, get us in range for docking as quick as possible.” _Now we do the switch,_ he thought, remembering the most complicated part of the plan the crew had developed.

 _“At this point, we dock with the freighter first and send our boarding team on. At the same time, we’ll pull the navigation team and stormtroopers off so there’s only civilians on board,”_ he remembered LT Edson explaining. _“Then, when the Navy team arrives, we do the joint boarding and ‘accidentally’ discover that the cargo hold has hidden weapons stored in it,”_ Halcar had added. _“We track the weapons back to the base and there goes the whole corrupt mess. They’ll have no choice but to launch an investigation,”_ commented Arcourt.

That was the plan, at least, and so far it was going smoothly. _Vigilant_ eased in next to the freighter just as the lights of Ferdes Station’s blocky shuttlecraft approached. “Connection complete,” announced the quartermaster of the watch as they energized the airlock remotely from the bridge. “Very well,” said Halcar with a nod, turning to the comms station. “Tell our people to get out of there,” he finished, turning his attention to the incoming boarding shuttle.

To the further consternation of Captain Danz’erik and his crew, the Customs Office personnel broke off and walked away in the middle of the brewing confrontation on the bridge, switching places with a fresh-looking group of officers with datapads and scanners. A few minutes later, the new officers were joined by a large cluster of taciturn, dark-suited Navy troopers with blasters who roughly pushed their way through every compartment, not answering questions. They left a few troops with the crew in the middle of the freighter’s small mess deck, supervised by a lone green-uniformed junior officer who was boredly examining the pattern of the paint on the wall while the Navy troopers rifled through paperwork and opened a handful of drawers, boxes, and containers.

Time went by, and finally one of the troopers reported to the Navy junior officer: “Sir, all paperwork and cargo is in order, other than what was damaged in the pirate attack. The ship meets all applicable laws and regulations.” “Very well,” said the bored JO. “Where did the Customs team go?” he asked, looking around for signs of the grey-clad inspection team. “Still in the hold, sir,” answered the trooper. “Can we leave now?” asked Danz’erik, who got a rough jab with the point of one of the troopers’ blasters as an answer. “I take it the answer is no,” he said grumpily, muttering with the rest of the discontented civilian spacer crew.

Several more minutes went by, and the Customs crew had still not shown up. “Go check on them,” ordered the Navy officer, and two of the troopers went to the hold. They came back quickly, and one of them said: “Sir, you’re going to want to see this.” Picking up on the seriousness of the trooper’s tone, the officer accompanied them to the hold. Waiting for them just inside the hold were the three Customs crewmen, next to a stack of what looked suspiciously like proton torpedo warheads. “Where did those come from?” demanded the officer incredulously, looking around the bags of grain that filled most of the hold. “We’ll need to investigate further to be sure,” said LTJG Kellon, _Vigilant’_ s navigator and the leader of the boarding party. “I suppose so. How did we miss that?” asked the Navy officer quietly, giving the troopers an accusatory glance.

The verbal sparring between the _Vigilant_ and the _Vindictive_ hadn’t gone unnoticed by others onboard the _Vindictive_ , however. It was now early morning, the boarding teams were wrapping up, and LT Rodgers mentioned the freighter and Customs corvette to VADM Iridan in his morning briefing. At first, he dismissed the report, but then took another look at it. _Arrived from Quorbat system with heavy damage due to pirate attack. Reported to be carrying contraband. Weapons parts found in cargo hold._ Then, it clicked in his mind. _This needs to be dealt with quietly, right now,_ he thought to himself. Without a word to his aide (who was midway through a description of the schedule for the day) he strode out of the room and headed for the bridge. “Admiral?” asked the lieutenant in confusion, standing up to follow only to have the door close in her face. “I guess someone’s having a bad day,” she said, rolling her eyes at her boss’s sudden departure. It wasn’t the first time he had walked out on a meeting, so she figured it wasn’t a big deal.

Meanwhile on the _Vigilant,_ Arcourt entered the bridge and stood by the quartermaster’s console, still wearing the grey armor and helmet from the boarding. “Marie, glad to have you back,” said Halcar, glancing over at her. He stopped and looked closer, noticing the blaster burn along the side of her chestplate, then approached, concern in his grey eyes. “Are you all right? Do you need Doc to check you over?” he asked. “Just a scratch, Skipper,” she replied, her green eyes meeting his. “Okay,” he said, nodding acknowledgement as he returned to the viewscreen, though she thought she saw his eyes flick over to her once more a few seconds later.

The admiral exited the turbolift onto the bridge of the _Vindictive_ , waving away the courtesies as the OOD called “Attention on deck!” and all the bridge crew leaped to their feet. “Comms, give me a status report. What’s the latest on the freighter?” said Iridan, peering down into the crew pit from his position near the ship’s executive officer, who had been in the process of preparing the bridge for the morning’s drills. “Admiral, the boarding team has just completed its report. The _Vigilant_ is hailing us.” _Of course they are,_ he thought bitterly. “Put them on screen.” The bridge of the _Vigilant_ appeared on screen, with LCDR Halcar seated in the captain’s chair.

“Good morning, Admiral,” said Halcar, standing up as he addressed the Navy flag officer and continuing: “Sir, with help from the Ferdes Station team, our boarding team has thoroughly investigated the weapons tech found aboard the _Ella Grace_ and has found that it is Imperial in origin and military grade.” Iridan tightened his jaw slightly and responded: “Is that so? Where would a freighter have gotten a hold of weaponry like that? A pirate gang?” “Possibly, Admiral,” replied Halcar calmly, then continued: “We have also cross-referenced the serial numbers on the parts, and identified the location the parts came from.” “And that is?” said Iridan with as much control as he could muster.

“This base, sir,” said Halcar innocently, pulling up the results on a swiveling viewscreen. “As this analysis shows, these parts and weapons were written off as ‘damaged beyond repair’ or ‘nonfunctional’ as of three weeks ago, but as far as we have been able to determine, there is no such damage.” Iridan stared down the younger Customs officer and his crew, trying to read how much of this was an act and how much was genuine. “At this point, sir, I think the only logical conclusion is to seize the cargo and file a report with the Region command – this seems to be a truly substantial issue and it bears investigating.”

Iridan thought for a moment, pacing the bridge, then turned to the screen. “No, it doesn’t,” he said bluntly. “Sir?” asked Halcar, confused at the admiral’s reaction. “I said, it doesn’t need to be investigated,” said Iridan flatly. “It’s an open-and-shut weapons smuggling case. We found the culprits, stopped the ship, seized the weapons. Nothing else to it.” “Admiral, I think this is anything but an open-and-shut case,” said the _Vigilant_ ’s commanding officer hesitantly. “The ship’s crew didn’t even know the weapons were there – their cargo manifest proves it. There’s something bigger going on here. We need to file a report immediately.”

As Halcar was talking, Iridan walked down to the starboard crew pit and headed to the communications control console, pushed a button, then walked back up. “There will be no report,” he said in a business-like manner, watching the _Vigilant_ ’s comms crewman look around in confusion as the Star Destroyer’s communications jamming field took effect. “Lieutenant Commander Halcar, you and your ship have more than fulfilled your role here. There will be no need for your findings – they are to be deleted immediately. As far as you or anyone else is concerned, this conversation never happened, the freighter _Ella Grace_ never existed, and you were never here. Your orders show you as being two days overdue to the Naboo system – proceed there immediately at best speed and attend to your duties.”


	12. Aftermath

ICC VIGILANT

FERDES SYSTEM

There was a shocked silence on the bridge of the _Vigilant_ as Admiral Iridan finished talking. _Comms are jammed, staring down the guns of an ISD. This couldn’t have gone much worse,_ thought Halcar as he looked around the bridge in the moment of quiet. The faces he saw looking back were upset, confused, or a little fearful, but one thing was common – everyone knew that what happening was wrong.

He looked to Arcourt and saw fiery determination in her eyes, bright like green sparks from a firecracker as she met his glance. _No way this crew is backing down now. We’ve come too far to go home with our tails between our legs._ Taking a deep breath, he addressed the helmsman quietly: “Helm, put us between the _Ella Grace_ and the _Vindictive_.” The petty officer’s eyes went wide, but she complied, activating the ship’s engines as Halcar turned to the proud figure of the admiral on the viewscreen, hiding his nervousness behind a calm front: “Sir, I cannot do that. To bear off and pretend this didn’t happen would be in violation of the oath we all swore as officers in the Imperial military, and I will not break that oath.”

Iridan’s mouth almost fell open at the junior Customs officer’s defiance. “You dare accuse me of breaking my oath? You, a low-born junior officer who wasn’t good enough to get into the Coruscant Academy, captain of a pathetic customs corvette? What amazes me is that your crew is stupid enough to believe you.” He looked out at the faces of the _Vigilant_ crew members and saw only stony-faced determination there, nothing he could exploit. _So this is the way it has to be,_ he thought quietly. “Halcar, I’ll see you and your entire crew court-martialed or I’ll see you in hell. Ensign Nalern, lock all weapons on the corvette and sound general quarters.” With that, Iridan cut the connection. As the crew stared at him, he snapped back: “I gave you an order – move!” and the bridge crewmen started to prepare for battle.

Back on the _Vigilant_ , Halcar and Arcourt were surrounded by a flurry of activity. The weapons station said: “Gun turrets 1-6 report manned and ready, shields energized at 100%,” as the ship’s crew locked down every protective hatch and doorway, and over it all, the alarm blared on: “GENERAL QUARTERS, GENERAL QUARTERS, ALL HANDS MAN YOUR BATTLE STATIONS.” In the midst of the controlled chaos, lit by the flashing red emergency lights and the dimmed light of the bridge, the two officers made eye contact once more, as the captain moved to stand next to his XO. There was a moment of awkward quiet as they stood there, then she said: “I wish we had more time,” her voice strained with emotion. “Me too,” he replied quietly, barely audible over the alarms.

Reports were coming in on the bridge of the Star Destroyer as Iridan took his usual spot in front of the large windows. “Manned and ready,” came the response from the turbolaser control. “Very well. Turbolaser batteries five through ten, open fire.” There was silence for two seconds. Five seconds. “Ensign Nalern, I said open fire!” he repeated in frustration, as he looked down into the crew pit – and saw that his weapons officer was no longer there. He turned around just in time to see a blaster pointed in his face from a few steps away, held by the quiet redhead ensign.

“Vice Admiral Iridan,” she said coldly, “I’m Agent Cardena, ISB. In the name of the Imperial Security Bureau, you are under arrest on charges of abuse of power, obstruction of justice, and blatant failure to use good judgement. You are not obliged to say anything unless you wish to do so, but anything that you say may be taken in evidence and used against you at a court-martial or non-judicial punishment proceeding.” Iridan stared blankly at his former weapons officer in disbelief. “You’re insane, I never -” he sputtered, but Agent Cardena cut him off with a jab of her blaster. “Move,” she said flatly, no trace of ‘Ensign Nalern’ ‘s usual deference in her voice. Grudgingly, he consented, raising his hands and walking off the bridge.

The bridge of the _Vigilant_ was tense and quiet, everyone waiting for orders or for an attack…that never came. A minute went by, then two. One or two crewmen started looking around, wondering what could be happening, then the comms console lit up. “Captain, the _Vindictive_ is hailing us.” “Put them through,” said Halcar hesitantly. An unfamiliar officer in an olive green Navy uniform appeared on the screen, the rows of blue and red squares on his uniform showing his rank of full captain. The man cleared his throat and said awkwardly: “Commander, there appears to have been a…misunderstanding, and Vice Admiral Iridan is indisposed at the moment. My name is Captain Otsolen, and I have no intention of firing on your vessel or the freighter. Perhaps we could discuss filing that report?” Halcar let out a long, slow breath that he didn’t even remember holding. “Yes, sir,” he replied gratefully, “we certainly can.”

ONE MONTH LATER

As it turned out, not one member of the Vice Admiral’s considerable legal defense staff was able to explain away the sensor footage from two warships and an entire freighter full of civilian witnesses. After days of hearings and deliberations by the tribunal of military judges, Iridan was found guilty of all charges, dishonorably discharged from the Imperial Navy, and forced to forfeit all pay, benefits, and retirement pensions. After docking at Quorbat Station so the crew could get some much-needed liberty time, the _Vigilant_ proceeded to Balmorra for her new, more legitimate assignment.

“Sir, I request permission to relieve the helm. Steering course 340 relative, mark minus 25 degrees, no contacts on sensors.” “Very well,” answered Halcar, returning the helmsman’s salute alongside LTJG Davis, who held the conn for the jump to lightspeed (her first since her return to duty a few weeks ago). “All hands make preparations for hyperspace,” came the voice of the quartermaster over the speakers, just as LT Arcourt joined the captain and her roommate on the left side of the bridge. “Captain, do you have a moment?” said the executive officer. “Sure, of course,” he replied, his expression brightening as he turned to the sound of her voice.

“Carry on,” he said to the weapons officer as he left the bridge to walk alongside Arcourt. “What can I do for you, Marie?” he asked once they were off the bridge and alone. “It’s a personal matter, I understand if it’s not a good time, but I just wanted to let you know –“ She hesitated for a moment, then changed track: “You know as well as I do that this – what we’re trying to do, being together but on the same ship – won’t work for much longer.” Taken aback that this was what she wanted to talk about, he had to take a second to think. “You’re probably right,” he said slowly, remembering the day when Commodore Veleon had presented him and Marie both with the Navy Commendation Medal, as well as the Commandant’s Unit of Honor award for the whole crew. Since then, he had also started to realize how their budding relationship wouldn’t exactly stay a secret forever, given how they acted around each other.

With her usual decisiveness, she continued: “I want this to work out between us without killing our careers, so…I’d like to transfer. I was thinking of requesting orders to Tactical Boarding school on Carida anyway, and this way we don’t have to worry about breaking rules any longer.” “I couldn’t have found a better solution myself,” he said with a half smile. “I wish we could have been in the same unit for longer, but I guess that’s one luxury we can’t keep forever.” Her eyes dropped to the deckplates momentarily, then she looked back up: “I guess so.” “Attention, all hands – _Vigilant_ will be entering hyperspace in 05 minutes,” broke in the quartermaster’s voice once again.

“Looks like it’s time to leave this party,” he said with a shrug. “I’m going to miss being your XO, Skipper,” she said playfully, nudging his shoulder as they stepped back into the turbolift to rejoin the bridge crew. “Well, we still have a few months until those orders go through – but I’ll miss you too, Marie,” he answered before they had to go back to business. “Ready, Skipper?” “Ready.”

“Captain on the bridge!” called the sensor crewman. “As you were,” he said, walking past the quartermaster and comms crewman. “All stations report manned and ready, sir,” LTJG Davis told him as he took his seat in the center of the bridge with Arcourt standing next to him. “Very well then. Helmsman – take us out.”

**Author's Note:**

> Acronyms, Terms, and Abbreviations  
> 1LT: a) The ship’s safety officer, in charge of maintaining safe work environments and making sure all equipment is safe for use, or: b) 1st Lieutenant, the Army rank above 2LT.  
> 2LT: 2nd Lieutenant, the lowest Army commissioned officer rank. Leader of a platoon (20-30 troops) or another small unit.  
> BWO: Bridge Watch Officer, a position held by a first-tour ensign in the command department on a Customs cutter.  
> CN: Crewman, the lowest enlisted rank.  
> CO: Commanding Officer, the captain of a military vessel. Addressed by courtesy as ‘Captain’, no matter what their actual officer rank is.  
> COMD: Commodore, lowest flag officer rank (equivalent to a one-star general). Addressed by courtesy as ‘Commodore’ rather than ‘sir/ma’am’.  
> Comms: Short for Communications.  
> Condition Green: The standard condition of readiness for a military vessel. Set in port during peacetime or when cruising in friendly space.  
> Condition Yellow: A state of intermediate readiness, set when a ship is entering hyperspace, transiting through contested space, or in port during wartime.  
> Condition Red: A ship’s highest condition of readiness, set when in battle or danger of collision, fire, decompression, etc.  
> Conn: The duty of driving or controlling the ship, taken in shifts (‘watches’) by senior enlisted and junior officers. Also called the Officer Of the Deck (OOD).  
> Cutter: Generic term for any of the Imperial Customs Office’s spacegoing craft.  
> ENS: Ensign, the lowest junior officer rank.  
> EO: Engineering Officer, a ship’s chief engineer and supervisor of the engine room.  
> EOIT: Engineering Officer In Training, also called ‘student engineer’, a position held by a first-tour ensign in the engineering department on a customs cutter.  
> GQ: General Quarters, a ship’s state of full battle readiness. Includes the setting of Condition Red and all crew manning battle stations.  
> Helm: The station from which the ship is steered and piloted.  
> ICC: Imperial Customs Cutter, title given to all patrol ships of the Customs Office.  
> ICO: Imperial Customs Office, the branch of the Galactic Empire’s bureaucracy charged with enforcing laws regarding safe operation of starships, stopping illegal smuggling, rescuing lost travelers, and maintaining port security. Commissioned Customs officers (who graduated from one of the many Imperial Academies) wear grey uniform tunics and matching caps, while their non-commissioned officers wear black.  
> IN: Imperial Navy, the spacegoing fleet of the Galactic Empire. Navy commissioned officers (who graduated from one of the many Imperial Academies) wear olive green uniform tunics and caps, while their non-commissioned officers wear black. The Imperial Navy and Imperial Customs Office use very similar rank structures, naming conventions, and uniforms. An individual’s rank is indicated by a row of colored squares on a metallic plaque affixed to the left chest of the uniform tunic.  
> ISD: Imperial Star Destroyer, title given to an Imperial Navy warship of the Victory, Imperial, or Executor-classes.  
> ISS: Imperial Star Ship, title given to all non-Star Destroyer combat ships of the Imperial Navy fleet.  
> JO: Short for ‘junior officer’, a generic term for any officer of Lieutenant Commander rank or lower. Officers of Commander rank and higher are ‘senior officers’.  
> LCDR: Lieutenant Commander, officer rank above LT. Addressed by courtesy as ‘Commander’ rather than ‘sir/ma’am’.  
> LT: Lieutenant, officer rank above LTJG.  
> LTJG: Lieutenant (Junior Grade), officer rank above ENS.  
> Mess Deck: The part of the ship where the enlisted crew eat their meals and socialize.  
> MC: Mess Cook, the enlisted members who cook and serve food for the Customs Office.  
> MT: Medical Technician, the enlisted medics of the Customs Office.  
> NAV: Short for Navigator/Navigation Officer.  
> OOD: See ‘Conn’.  
> OPS: Short for Operations Officer.  
> Port: The left side of a ship.  
> Quartermaster: A bridge watch position generally held by junior enlisted personnel. Responsible for the ship’s log, announcements over the intercom, and plotting the ship’s position on star charts.  
> SCPO: Senior Chief Petty Officer, the second highest non-commissioned officer (enlisted) position.  
> Skipper: Informal term for a ship’s commanding officer. Used equivalently to ‘Captain’ but in a less formal context.  
> SUPPO: Short for Support Officer.  
> Starboard: The right side of a ship.  
> TC: Technician, the enlisted mechanics and repair specialists of the Customs Office  
> VADM: Vice Admiral, a flag officer rank equivalent to a three-star general. Addressed by courtesy as ‘Admiral’ rather than ‘sir/ma’am’.  
> Wardroom: Where the ship’s officers eat their meals and socialize.  
> WEPS: Short for Weapons Officer.  
> XO: Executive Officer, a ship’s second in command.


End file.
